Shadowed Soul
by Ranowa Hikura
Summary: "It was Miroku's hand that went towards her breast- but the cold light in his eyes was not Miroku at all, and Sango fought to turn away, revolted." When a demon possesses Miroku for his Kazanna, he goes after Sango to try and break his host's spirit.
1. Chapter 1

Ended up writing this to help me survive the last month of the semester and final's week. Short fic, probably around 6 chapters (haven't divided everything out into chapters but have a full draft written). I only fanfiction nowadays when my muse demands it, and she absolutely demanded this. Miroku/Sango, pre-Final Act (I guess, since Naraku's still alive here haha). My finals end Thursday with an organic chem nightmare; unsure if I'll be able to proofread next section before then, so at the latest an update will from Friday. I hope you enjoy!

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When the shift in Miroku's breathing came, along with it the snapping of a twig, Inuyasha carefully cracked open an eye and watched.

Silently, the monk sat upright in the pale moonlight, his back to him. He'd been lying still as rock ever since the girls had gone to sleep, even his breaths inaudible- Inuyasha had been able to tell that Miroku had been faking sleep for hours, and now, at last, the reason for that was about to be displayed. He remained still, waiting as Miroku, with an eerie sort of grace that made Inuyasha's hair stand on end, stood and began to leave their campsite. He moved quieter than a human had any right to do, and Inuyasha frowned, sniffing silently.

There, that scent again... Miroku, but not quite. So close to the human's scent the difference was almost unnoticeable- but, there was a difference.

Inuyasha remained motionless, watching as Miroku disappeared into the trees, then glanced around cautiously at their campsite. None of the others had woken, and nodding satisfactorily, he stood himself, grasping Tetsusaiga. Best to confront Miroku away from the others. Something was off and, until he knew what it was, it would be good to leave Kagome out of it. Sango couldn't think straight when the monk was concerned, even he could see that much, and Shippo would be of no help.

He approached Kirara, rubbing the back of her neck to wake her up. When the demon cat's eyes opened, he held a finger to his lips, then gestured for her to stay. It took the cat a few moments to get it, but when she nodded, he turned and headed after Miroku, leaving Kirara behind to protect the camp while he sought out the wayward member of their group.

It wasn't hard to catch up with him; Miroku wasn't trying to run, and even if he had been, he wouldn't have gotten far. Inuyasha prowled behind the monk, deciding to scope out the situation before he intervened; his staff was in one hand, but the sword that had caused all this possible trouble was in the other. If Miroku had really intended to bury it, like he'd promised, then why was he taking it with him now, in this clandestine journey in the middle of the night? And why was it out of its sheath?

Not to mention the questionable _something_ in Miroku's scent was getting stronger.

A growl grew in his throat.

It was time for him to find out whatever was going on.

"Oi, Miroku! Something wrong?" he called casually, breaking into the deadened silence to step out into the open, innocently releasing Tetsusaiga and jogging to get closer. The moment he spoke the monk stiffened, reaching not for his staff, but the sword, and when he turned, there was a split second of darkness in him. Something in his eyes that just wasn't quite right, just like it his scent; _something_ that embodied his entire persona that made Inuyasha want to growl again.

And then it was gone.

"Oh, Inuyasha!" the monk called genially, as if wasn't the middle of the night and he wasn't just walking away from them for no good reason. "What are you doing out here?"

"...I could ask you the same thing, bozu."

Miroku frowned innocently, seeming to have no idea that there was anything wrong. "Mmm? Oh! I just couldn't sleep, is all. Decided to go on ahead; bury this guy." He patted the sword with an eerie familiarity and smiled again. "The sooner that's taken care of, we can get back to our mission, ne, Inuyasha?"

He frowned again. His scent, the look in his eyes, and now his speech... it was all just _off._ And had been since he'd taken that blade from the strange passerby who, now that he thought about it, had singled out Miroku specifically, asking that the monk take the blade and bury it in his old village. He hadn't given a very convincing reason for why it had to be Miroku, either; some sobfest about youkai still haunting the village that had it out for him- he'd just seemed very insistent on Miroku taking that sword.

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed, and he looked at the weapon again.

 _There is something not right about that thing._

Miroku took another step backwards, appearing to want to get away from him as quickly as possible. "One of us, at least, should be sleeping, Inuyasha," he said, chuckling, and gestured back towards the camp. "Don't worry about me, I'll be back in two days!"

And, when the monk took another step backwards, Inuyasha got an idea.

"Eh? But tomorrow's the full moon." He pointed towards the dark sky overhead, watching Miroku's every move as closely as he could. "That's the one night that I'm human, Miroku! You can't leave now; there won't be anyone to protect Sango and Kagome if something happens!"

1\. Sango sure as hell didn't need Miroku's protection.

2\. Inuyasha would sooner cut his own throat than admit he'd ever be in a state where he couldn't even protect a human.

And, most importantly of all:

The full moon wasn't his transformation night.

So, if he said such a thing to Miroku, the only thing coming his way would be a barrage of logic and confusion.

And Inuyasha waited with bated breath, tension high, ready to grab Tetsusaiga again at the slightest sign that something was wrong.

Miroku paused for a moment, gaze going to the ground, features shifting to become blank. He just stood there stiffly, frozen for a beat, before a false concern suddenly rose again and the monk shook his head in what was probably supposed to be an apology. "I forgot, Inuyasha; forgive me. Of course I will return to the camp with you now. The sword can wait; I will stay and protect the ladies. After you become a demon again, I'll tend to the sword."

Tetsusaiga was drawn in a rippling flash of light, and Inuyasha was on the monk before the man had time to do more than flinch.

"Who are you?! What've you done with Miroku?!" Inuyahsa locked his legs tighter around him when he started to struggle, keeping him pinned down against the forest floor. "Answer me, youkai!"

"Y- youkai?!" the so called Miroku stammered in alarm, and he thrashed again, trying to get away. "You're the one whose possessed! Get off of me, Inuyash-"

"I don't transform with the full moon boz- _youkai!_ The real Miroku knows that! Give it up!"

The man still tried for a moment, putting on a facade of blatant innocence and confusion. His struggles were still a human's, though, too weak to even pay any mind to, never mind enough to give him any chance at escape, and Inuyasha simply continued to pin Miroku against the dirt and fight. He glanced towards the sword still in Miroku's grip and turned Tetsusaiga against it, preparing to swing it at his hand. That sword was the cause of all this. He wasn't stupid enough to touch it- but he could surely provide enough force to knock it out of his hand. "Start talking, youkai," he warned, eyes still flitting between Miroku's and the sword. "Or else be prepared to lose a finger or two."

And with those words, the innocence hung on still for a few desperate moments- and then, vanished.

Inuyasha could pinpoint the exact moment when the light in Miroku's eyes disappeared and a cruel smile started to grow on his lips. The monk's features contorted, shifting from human alarm into a demon's chilling confidence so quickly it was unerring, and Inuyasha could not help but tighten his grip so greatly his claws drew blood.

Miroku- or whatever was in control of him, at this point- simply tilted his head to the side, seemingly entirely unaware about the disadvantage he was at here, and he laughed quietly, one chilling, victorious sound that made Inuyasha growl again.

"You are very correct, hanyou, in your assumption that this sword is the source of all your trouble." The voice started off like Miroku's but fluctuated, meandering between the monk's innocent tones and a deeper, more guttural kind of snarl that was nothing short of horrifying. "However, it is far too late for you to simply make me _let go_. I did reside in the sword in the beginning, yes; pity you didn't figure this out then- you might've had some inkling of a chance." Miroku smiled again, a dark, perverse version of the monk's usual mischievous grin. "I began possessing your houshi the moment the rest of you went to sleep. I may not have complete control yet, but..." He trailed off again and laughed, a laugh that was _nothing_ like Miroku at all, and the grin turned feral. "To remove that sword now is useless. Of course, hanyou, you are still free to try. Go ahead. Give me a swing or two of that Tetsusaiga. It's very easy for me to just find another body- but I don't think it is quite that simple for a human to find another hand."

Inuyasha blanched, looking towards Tetsusaiga again helplessly. Regardless of whether the demon was telling the truth or not about removing the sword from Miroku's grip, Tetsusaiga couldn't strike delicately. It went all out, every time. If he swung that thing now, it was more likely he'd take out Miroku's entire hand along with the sword.

Cursing, Inuyasha pulled back- but he still didn't release Tetsusaiga. This demon wanted to goad him, step by step, into letting him walk away, because he couldn't risk hurting Miroku. Well, the bastard wasn't going to get his way.

"You're so smug and clever, huh?" Inuyasha growled, stretching his claws. _"Hanyou, hanyou, hanyou_ all you want; you're still in a human's body. You can't lift a finger against me. _Kirara, Sango! KIRARA! SANGO! HURRY! IT'S MIROKU!"_

 _There,_ he thought, satisfied. That last word should get Sango, at least, running, and Kirara with her. Almost certainly Kagome and Shippo, too, but whatever was in Miroku only had a human body to work with. They wouldn't be in any danger while he was there.

"Oh?" the demon chuckled, raising an eyebrow, entirely ignorant to his predicament. "Calling humans for backup? Tch. Only from a hanyou."

Inuyasha growled again, his claws aching to reach out and punch him. "You're lucky I don't want Miroku to wake up with a broken face, youkai," he snarled, and glanced uneasily towards the sword again.

He could hear footsteps now; by the distant smashing it sounded as if Kirara were carrying everyone, and he grinned. Good. They'd get here faster. "Eh, Miroku, you hear me?" he called, cuffing the impudent demon by the ear. "We'll get this guy out of you in no time."

The scowl that rose was ferocious and instant, the growl that grew in Miroku's throat nothing human and entirely animalistic; demon."Optimistic trash," he muttered, eyes flashing. "You think that you have won? Hanyou, this battle has yet to even start." He bared his teeth, growl growing in his throat again- then exhaled.

Out came miasma.

 _Shit!_ Inuyasha ducked his head away from the attack, turning away while still keeping his grip on Miroku, but he could only manage for a few seconds before he had to withdraw. The smell was nauseating and if he inhaled anymore he'd pass out. Better he be conscious and at a distance than unconscious at on top of him.

Miasma that potent would kill a human in an instant. And yet, Miroku's body had been entirely unaffected.

Inuyasha swore as he landed and even then backed up further, eyes only for the dark spread of poison in the middle of the clearing. This wasn't the standard possession- there was something about this that was different. And different very rarely meant anything good.

He watched, on edge and tense, as the demon rose from the cloud of miasma, nothing more than a shadow in the poisonous mist. The fact that he was being housed in a human body seemed to bring him no detriment at all. He simply swung that cursed sword a few times, the miasma still hiding almost his entire form, and Inuyasha crouched, already preparing to spring the moment the miasma had dispersed. He heard Kirara bounding up behind him and shifted slightly, but still didn't pull his gaze away from Miroku. Or, whatever had taken their monk hostage.

"Inuyasha! Inuyasha, what's going on?! Is that- is that Houshi-sama?!" Sango cried out from behind him, by the sound of it, sprinting forward in a panic. He held out an arm to stop her from running towards Miroku- still not releasing his grip on Tetsusaiga.

"Don't be fooled. That's not Miroku, Sango," he warned, glaring angrily at the cloud of miasma. "He told me himself. He's possessed."

"What?!"

Kagome, who had joined him by his other side, lowered her bow, eyes wide in alarm. "Miroku-sama is-?!"

Inuyasha nodded seriously, still not looking at either one of them. "Don't risk using your arrows, Kagome. No telling what they could do to him. Definitely drive the demon out but-"

"May kill him in the process. Of course." Kagome took an uncertain step back, still staring at the miasma, whereas Sango only moved forward.

" _Houshi-sama!"_ she yelled and moved forward again, entirely heedless to her own safety. "Houshi-sama! Can you hear me?!"

The miasma didn't disperse, but, slowly, the monk began to walk out of it, parting his way through the dark cloud as if it were nothing more than dust. At last he emerged, stepping to stand just outside of his defense, half shrouded by the darkness- his eyes, only for Sango. "You..." he murmured, seeming almost curious, and raised his sword, pointing the black blade at her with in a single deft motion. "This body got excited when you spoke. Tell me, hanyou. Does your precious houshi have an attachment to that human?"

Inuyasha heard Sango gasp behind him, and he stared in alarm. So Miroku was definitely still in there, even if only on a subconscious level. They still had time to get to him- but he had no way of knowing how fast that time was running out. "That's no business of yours, youkai!" he shouted back, then turned to Sango, pointing the stunned taijiya forward. "Sango, use Hiraikotsu! Tetsusaiga'll kill him but we just need to get him down, then find someone who can do an exorcism."

"An exorcism?" the demon drawled in incredulity, laughing at them all. "You think such petty magic will work on me? Or a human's weapon, for that matter? Ha! You're welcome to try!" He spread his arms gleefully, smugly, and Inuyasha found himself stopping himself from turning to growl again while he forced the clearly reluctant taijiya forward.

"Come on, Sango, it's the only way! Unless you want me to use my _kaze no kiz-"_

"I know, Inuyasha!" she snapped, but her eyes were still only for the monk. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing hard, then hefted Hiraikotsu and moved forward. "Houshi-sama! If you can hear me- I'm sorry! But I have to do this! _Hiraikotsu!"_

Inuyasha grinned, watching as the weapon whirled through the air, headed straight for the monk. Sango had been hit her own attack once before and merely been incapacitated, not killed; with any luck they'd get the same result here. And if he blocked it- well, they'd at least get some idea of his strength.

Despite his _welcome to try_ comment, the demon still moved to try and block Hiraikotsu, crouching in place and raising his sword just in time to meet the boomerang in mid air. He was still hit with enough strength to be forced to slide back more than several feet, the boomerang whirling against him and striving to slice straight through the deadly sword. Inuyasha stared in amazement when he actually weathered the blow, Hiraikotsu driving him to stumble backwards in a frantic attempt to keep himself upright, clearly takenaback by the force behind the blow; even when he at last found his footing, he still snarled and fought, struggling to send the boomerang back and not have it bowl him over in the process.

No human should've had that strength.

Inuyasha stared, tense, watching with bated breath the struggle between the demon and Hiraikotsu- until at last, the boomerang prevailed, and Miroku was sent flying backwards in an uncontrolled flail of limbs to smash into a tree. When he slid down to the ground again and it hit it with a muted _thump,_ it was to fall and lie facedown, motionless, in the dirt.

Once again, that blow and fall was something that should've knocked a human unconscious- if not killed him. It looked painful even to him, and he knew if Miroku had taken such a hit, he'd have been knocked senseless and incapacitated for days.

The look on Sango's face said she was thinking just the same as him- and feeling all the worse, for her part in it.

"Houshi... Houshi-sama?" she croaked, motionless.

Inuyasha growled, waiting for the stone to drop and the demon to rise. Whatever this thing was, it had already proven to have shed at least some of the limitations of its human form. If physical endurance was one of those qualities...

" _Houshi-sama!"_

"Sango-chan, wait-"

But it was too late. Sango was running straight for Miroku.

Inuyasha swore, preparing to jump after her. The demon had blocked too much of Hiraikotsu's momentum before it had struck him; it hadn't been able to return to Sango and lay now, abandoned, in the grass beside him- and her sword had been left back at the campsite; she was utterly defenseless-

It was a trap.

" _Sango!"_ he screamed, throwing himself forward as fast he could, sprinting to get in between her and Miroku before it was too late. _"Sango, stop, he's-"_

Inuyasha saw it then. The slightest twitch in the hand that held onto that dammed sword, the hand around the hilt tightening almost imperceptibly- the motion far too minute to have been seen by any human. Sango included.

It was too late to get Sango out of the way. All he could do was take the blow for her.

The cursed sword sliced cleanly down through the robe of the fire rat, the armored fabric barely even giving it pause. His skin, far tougher than any human's, wasn't able to stop it either; Inuyasha stared in more disbelief than pain as the blade pierced directly through his shoulder with a spray of black blood. When he felt it go out his back, he couldn't stop himself from one short, agonized shout of pain.

No regular human should've had the strength to cut him. Whatever hold this thing had on Miroku, it was growing stronger.

He heard Kagome scream from behind him and Sango skid to a stop in horror; he held his ground, grabbing onto the hands that held the sword in him and slamming the demon back against the tree, moving with him all the while. "Sango, get back!" he snarled, clawed fingers digging so deep into Miroku's shoulders they sliced through skin and reached down to tissue. "I'm fine! _Get out of here!"_

Miroku raised his bowed head to reveal a twisted snarl, eyes burning with hate, the features he was so accustomed to turning so dark and murderous he almost couldn't even recognize him. "Do you want to die, hanyou?!" Miroku growled at him- and his voice, too, was so far out of normal it sounded nothing like their friend. "Stop interfering!" He pushed the sword in an inch further; Inuyasha's knees buckled but he still held his ground, every drop of blood that came from the wound only giving him more determination.

"If you don't let go of Miroku, you'll never escape us alive," he hissed, still standing even when the monk tried to drive the sword in further. Inuyasha grunted in agony, the blow forcing him down to his knees but still not back. "We'll never let you get away with him."

The demon laughed shortly, the black blade in him quivering agonizingly with the motion; Inuyasha had to fight not to cry out. "Oh, but it's been decided you would hunt me down from the moment I chose this one as my target. You would still hunt for me even if I released him here and now. Hear this, hanyou: this monk is mine. And if you you do not stand back and allow it, then I'll simply send you all to an early grave."

Inuyasha growled again, hatred seething. This creature before him was nothing like the Miroku he knew, and it turned his stomach to know that this _thing_ had latched on to Mirkou and, if it had its way, would just use him until he was discarded as an empty shell.

 _Not on my goddamn watch._

With a cry, Inuyasha brought a foot around to smash it against the monk's ribs, sending Miroku tumbling back head over heels- and bringing the sword with him. At last freed from the cursed blade's grip, Inuyasha rotated his shoulder a few times until, satisfied, he turned back to face the monk who was now climbing to his feet, seething with anger. " _Miroku, can you hear me?!"_ he shouted, straining to reach the monk that he knew was still aware somewhere inside. " _Miroku, we're getting you out of this! MIROKU!"_

The demon launched himself forward at that, blade raised again, and this time Inuyasha was ready to block with Tetsusaiga. Tetsusaiga should've shattered any normal blade, but this one withstood the blow and returned another one in kind, leaving the two of them to burst into a lightning fast dance of parries and attempted stabs. Miroku was faster than he had ever been in battle before, violet eyes glinting with excitement as he parried off against Inuyasha, moving through battle with a fluid grace that was entirely unlike the monk's brute style of smashing attackers with his staff.

Inuyasha would never admit just how hard pressed he found himself to keep up and swore under his breath, struggling to keep the demon away from the girls. It was clear now that this demon was extremely powerful- by his own admission, he was still in transition period between early possession and complete control, but he was already able to use Miroku to such an extent as to be able to ward him off? If they didn't find a way to trap him soon, Inuyasha was worried they might not be strong enough to stop him without killing him.

 _All I need is a single kaze no kizu...!_

Their two swords met in mid air again, colliding with a metallic clang, and Inuyasha pressed further, striving to break the cursed blade. Miroku's mouth turned into a feral grin, eyes bright with bloodlust, and all of that was just so _wrong_ on Miroku's face he wanted to bring Tetsusaiga down and slice the demon in half. "Miroku, hang in there!" he growled through gritted teeth, beginning to shake with the exertion. "Almost... got... it..."

"You speak to no one, hanyou!" the demon cackled, and the push back against Tetsusaiga was so strong he almost lost his footing. "Your houshi is gone! Any will that remains against me is deteriorating, and when its gone, his soul will be mine to devour! Your-"

" _You're wrong!"_ Inuyasha screamed back, and with a burst of strength he threw himself forward and brought Miroku down to his knees. Tetsusaiga shook against the cursed sword, struggling to cleave it in two. "Miroku wouldn't give up so easily! Small fry like you aren't even worth his _Kazanna!_ "

The demon growled but did not respond, now all his attention devoted to fighting back against Tetsusaiga. It was deadly quiet now, the only sound their ragged breaths against the metallic scraping of their blades, Inuyasha struggling with all his might to take down the demon that had taken up residence inside his friend while Miroku's body snarled in an entirely inhuman sound, eyes still flashing in sheer rage.

Except...

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes, staring harder at the demon's- _Miroku's_ \- face. The features were strained and tense but no longer focused on him- Miroku simply stared _through_ rather than at him now, seething at some sight that Inuyasha could not see. And even while Inuyasha stared at him in rising unease, the demon began to mutter under in his breath, shoulders shaking with the exertion. "Impossible... you dare to... y-you dare... resist..."

And with that, Miroku's body continued to fight, but the darkness lurking behind his eyes vanished, the bloodlust carved into every cruel feature of his face disintegrated he looked Inuyasha in the eye, and he spoke again.

"Inu... yasha..."

Inuyasha gasped.

"R-r-r... Inuyasha..."

" _Miroku_!" he cried, so takenaback he almost dropped Tetsusaiga. He stared in amazement as the human shook beneath him, unbelievably tense and strained but very definitely _Miroku._

"Inu... yasha..." he gasped again, voice a struggling, dying croak. "R-run..."

"Run?! Are you insane, bozu?! I'm not leaving until-"

"Mia...s...m... miasm...a..."

Inuyasha understood in the exact moment that the demon took over again, stealing the light again from Miroku's eyes in a change that physically hurt to watch, and he got back just in time to miss the burst of miasma that expanded from the monk's mouth and claimed over the area he'd been occupying a mere second before.

Swearing under his breath, Inuyasha slunk back a little, Tetsusaiga still in his hand, and glanced back to see Kagome and Sango still standing and staring in astonishment and horror. "Kagome, get out of here!" he warned, turning back towards the cloud of miasma. "Miroku's a lot stronger right now than I've ever seen him. We can't risk your sacred arrows, so you need to get out of here. I can't protect you now."

"But, Inuyasha-"

" _Go!"_ he snarled, still focused on the dark, clouded form that was sure to be Miroku. "You and Shippo, run! Sango, get ready. He's coming back."

The taijya started, then nodded, moving to his side and preparing to fight. Inuyasha waited with her, only breathing a little easier when he heard Kagome taking Shippo and getting the hell out of there- leaving only him, Sango, and the demon.

 _Hang in there, Miroku,_ he thought, growl erupting into a full brown snarl. _We're coming for you._

At last, the demon stepped from the cloud of miasma. And he was fuming.

"You dare resist me, _filthy human?!"_ he cried- but not to them. To _himself._ "You think your interference will spare them?! I'll crush your soul and when I do, these pathetic creatures who can't bear to kill your body will die with you!"

That was enough to spur Sango forward, the taijiya grabbing Hiraikotsu again and bursting into a sprint, preparing to throw. " _Houshi-sama!"_

The demon's eyes glinted and he raised his head, looking towards them again in a wave of hate. "Impudent fools! Want to finish this, do you?! Then, allow me to test it- the reason I chose this monk above all the rest!"

Sango wasn't stopping, and Inuyasha started to run behind her, uneasily watching the demon. The reason he'd chosen Miroku to possess? So he'd singled out Mirkou specifically? That couldn't be for anything good...

And, sure enough, when the demon began to attack, it was by simply raising Miroku's cursed hand. He sheathed the sword violently in the ground, then reached up with the other to release the prayer beads that bound Naraku's curse.

 _The Kazanna._

 _He went after Mirkou for his Kazanna_

At last, everything made sense.

Far too late, of course.

Sango skidded to a stop at the sight of Miroku and Inuyasha threw himself after her, linking one arm around hers and thrusting Tetsusaiga into the ground as anchor with the other. He was now doubly glad Kagome had been sent away and he pulled Sango down to the ground with him, using Tetsusaiga's sheath to create a barrier. It wouldn't do much against Mirkou's Kazanna, but hopefully that and Tetsusaiga as an anchor would keep them down until they could come up with some other kind of plan.

All that was left for Inuyasha to do was watch, still crouched in a threatening prowl, as the demon reached up towards Miroku's prayer beads and prepared to rip them off.

And then, his fingers actually touched the beads.

There was a brilliant spark of light, the smell of burning flesh- and, miraculously, the demon yanked his hand back, leaving the Kazanna uncovered. He howled in pain, now gripping the burned hand with the sealed one, screeching profanities at Mirkou while Inuyasha stared, breathing hard.

Of course. _Prayer beads._

Miroku was cheap about a lot of things, but his staff and the prayer beads were two things in which no expense had been spared. The beads locked around his wrist had probably been the most powerful, blessed things he could get his hands on, and he'd likely strengthened the charms himself. They'd seal the evil, demon-borne curse in his hand, but humans like Miroku, and even half demons like himself, would still be able to touch them.

And, the demon presence inside of him could not.

 _His Kazanna is sealed._

He lowered the barrier, yanking Tetsusaiga up and climbing to his feet again, preparing to strike. "What now?! All you've got left is miasma, and if you think that'll hold us off for long you're a fool!"

Sango moved to stand beside him as well, Hiraikotsu raised. She was prepared to attack as well, and Inuyasha watched carefully as the demon, still rubbing his burnt hand, raised his scalding gaze to glare between them all. He grabbed the previously abandoned staff, then pointed at Inuyasha with it, teeth bared in a snarl. "You. Hanyou. Why do you fight so hard for this mortal? Now or fifty years from now, he'll die. Nothing you do can prevent that. Why waste time on mortals such as these?"

Inuyasha growled but didn't respond. There was no point to it. Sesshomaru had asked him the same thing many times, in between traded blows mere inches away from being fatal. Until a full blooded demon stumbled upon someone like Sesshomaru's Rin, they simply could not understand the pull he had towards these soft, fragile creatures that were hotblooded in war and passion and would die all too soon. To demons like this, Miroku, as a human, was nothing more than a pawn. No words would get him out of their friend; only action.

When he did not respond, the demon simply lowered his arm and shook his head in amusement. "Whatever. You've chosen your lot in life; who am I to question it, right?" He chuckled slightly, an eerie sort of sound that was nothing like Miroku.

Then, he raised the black sword to his own throat.

"I tire of this fight. I've bested you every time we've crossed blades, and to do so again is a waste of my time. If you wish to value his life above your own, hanyou? Then fine. Do not strike me, or I will draw this sword and drain him of blood before you ever reach me. You. Taijiya." He pointed at Sango with his free hand, the other still holding the blade across Miroku's throat. "You will come with me, or your precious houshi-sama will die here and now."

"Wh- _what?!_ "

Inuyasha growled at him, taking another step forward. "Don't move, Sango. He's bluffing. Without Miroku he got no way out of here."

The demon chuckled- inching the blade ever closer to its targer. "Oh, but you misunderstand, hanyou. Without that Kazanna I saw him use, this body is useless to me. Paramount to any other human. He is now no more than a vessel to take me to my next form. If you want to take the chance, of course, that I am bluffing- please, do so. This is simply the most convenient way for me to achieve my wishes. I can just as easily do it with him dead." He waited for a second, Sango still frozen, Inuyasha still staring in horror. When none of them moved, he began to draw the blade back- taking skin and blood with it.

" _NO! STOP!"_

The demon paused- blood, still dripping off the tip of his sword.

Miroku's blood.

The scent alone enraged Inuyasha, enough to want to reach over and tear the demon apart.

Sango stood now in front of him, resolute in her determination. She dropped Hiraikotsu with a thundering smack and took another step, hands raised to show that she was unarmed. "Don't hurt him! I promise, I'll come with you."

"Sango!" _God damn it, Sango, you're playing right into his hand-!_

"Stay out of this, Inuyasha," she warned, still only facing the demon. "Unless you can see another way to stop him from cutting his throat- this is the only way."

The demon laughed again but did not lower the sword, still waiting for her to join him by his side. "Good girl," he coaxed, dark grin spreading, and Inuyasha reached desperately as he lost, not one, but _two_ of his friends.

"Stop, you bastard! I'll go with you; leave her out of this!"

"You?" The demon chuckled again, casting a quick look at him in amusement. "I'm sorry, hanyou, but you are of no use to me. My sword injected miasma into your wound... you'll be passing out soon anyway. What, you expect me to want a hostage that'll turn into me lugging around some dead weight?" He scoffed. "Taijiya, are you getting cold feet? I think your monk's neck would prefer it if you moved faster."

And, horrified, Inuyasha was left with nothing to do but stand there and stare helplessly as the taijiya walked, her back to him, towards the demon. When she reached him, he wasn't surprised at all that the hilt of the sword came down her head in a blur of black, leaving the taijiya to drop like a stone. He could smell her blood, and the growl that grew, contained, in his throat served no purpose except to make him even more frustrated, and when Miroku's body tossed Sango's over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and melted with her back into the darkness of the midnight forest, he found himself wanting to scream.

 _Miroku... Sango..._

When his head hit the ground, he still found himself reaching out for them, in one final desperate attempt to pull them back before the miasma overtook him, and he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the hits! Finals are over, and I'm home at last; updates should be regular and rather quick from now one.

* * *

When Sango regained consciousness, it was to such a powerful instinct to run for her life that she just barely prevented herself from following it.

Because, with awareness came the instant memory of just how she'd been knocked out- and that memory was nothing but the picture of her pacifistic, smiling, dear monk- standing there with eyes glinting in a chilling light of bloodlust, and his mouth twitched into a hungry, feral snarl.

Stabbing Inuyasha. Aiming the Kazanna at them. Sword held as naturally as an extension of his arm, dripping with blood...

The terror tinted memory turned red with sheer, unadulterated rage- and all fear vanished.

Her fists clenched.

Kirara, with Kagome; her katana, back at the campsite, abandoned; Hiraikotsu, forcibly left behind... it didn't matter. Weaponless? Then she would tear apart the demon that had taken up refuge inside her monk with her own two hands.

 _Your monk, Sango? Yours? He is betrothed to you, and you to him, but that makes him yours, now? And knowing that lecher, he'll find a pretty woman soon to bear his child regardless of what he said to you... he needs an heir, after all..._

Flushing furiously at her own thoughts, Sango shook her head at herself and made herself focus. What was wrong with her- thinking about such things now? This had been exactly what Miroku had been afraid of! Allowing something to develop in between them, and that something would progress to the point where it could distract them even when there was a demon right in front of them.

What was important now was getting that monster out of Miroku. Anything else was immaterial.

Sango forced herself to open her eyes, nerves still tight and anger still rising.

Miroku- or, whatever was inside him right now, at any rate- stood with his back to her, staff lying abandoned on the ground, sword by his side. She had been left on the dirt as well, her face inches away from a struggling growth of brown, straggly weeds, and she winced at the sight, pulling away. Her hands had been left free, and she quickly raised them into a defensive position, for all the good it would do her, and glared at the demon's back. "What do you intend to do with me, youkai?!" she snapped, ready to dodge at any moment. "Why did you take me?!"

Hardly seeming surprised that she was awake, he merely waved dismissively in her direction, not even turning his head towards her. "All in due time, human," he murmured casually, head still bowed. The demon paused, sword leaning against his shoulder, then cleared his throat. "I've got some business to take care of. If I return, and you have left, then I will depart for another vessel, and your precious monk will die. Keep that in mind, human." The threat sounded idle, absentminded; a casual afterthought for him in parallel as a heart stopping death threat to her, and Sango remained frozen on the ground as the demon reached for the monk's staff, preparing to leave.

What happened next made Sango cry out and recoil, eyes shielded from the blinding light, and the demon's hand curled frozen in mid air- palm scorched raw.

Miroku's staff had expanded in a glow of white energy so intense she could feel the heat from several feet away, reacting against the demon trying to touch it with a holy barrier so powerful he was unable to even breach it. It glowed there even now, sizzling in a protective shield ofstunning strength, the holy and spiritual power so bright it was blinding.

She stared, utterly speechless.

The demon withdrew an inch, hand hovering just outside the protective barrier- features, an indescribable cast of frustration. "What, he's got sutras in the staff, too?" he muttered, turning his burned hand over in calm introspection. "Paranoid twit." The demon pulled his arm back, shaking his long sleeve over the burns alongside another growl of annoyance.

Calmly, he brought one sandled foot down through the barrier to plant it against the staff. The burning of flesh was horrifying against her ears and Sango gasped, kneeling in shock as the demon withstood the scalding barrier without even flinching.

He splintered the staff in half with a single stomp, and in the same breath, that barrier dispersed in a defeated deflation of light. "Thing was worthless anyway," he murmured under his breath, rotating his burned ankle a few times before he carelessly turned his back, proceeding away down the hill without a second glance.

Sango covered her mouth with a shaking hand, staring after him and finding herself left completely without words.

From behind, the careless, cruel shadow of features she knew so well was disguised, and he looked no different from the monk she cared for.

Then, unbidden, her eyes were torn away from Miroku, and towards what he had left behind.

His staff lay there innocently on the ground, two, broken halves of something that was as much a staple of Miroku as his Kazanna and his lecherous habits, and to see it lying there, no longer whole, left behind simply as unneeded remains...

She was reminded, horribly so, of how Inuyasha had first believed Kikyo to have fallen, when Naraku had sent the dead priestess into his river of miasma. All that had been left behind of her had been the two halves of her bow.

That had been enough to convince him.

And, even now, as she watched Miroku walk silently down the hill and to the village below, the broken staff left behind said everything that words could not.

"Houshi-sama..." she breathed, shaking from the pain of it, and moved to kneel next to the staff, touching one end of it reverently.

Her heart broke.

 _Houshi-sama..._

As crushing as the defeat that tried to encompass her now was, though- there was also a problem.

That barrier had been almost identical to the prayer bead's rejection of the spirit inside Miroku's body. However, the demon had clearly been able to touch the staff before now, no matter how well Miroku had tried to protect it against evil spirits. It made sense, to be sure, that the prayer beads would've been charmed stronger than his staff- but even assuming its protection was weaker than that which sealed his Kazanna, why did it affect him now when it hadn't before?

She ran a hand over the cool metal, thinking hard.

If the charms on this to ward against demons weren't as strong as the ones on his prayer beads, it only led her to assume that the demon in Miroku was losing a tolerance or resistance that he had to them only last night- losing it quickly. Most demons that had a resistance to such sacred objects usually did it through brute strength alone; a sutra that might destroy a weaker demon would disintegrate if some foolhardy priest tried to slap it on, say, Sesshomaru. But it didn't make any sense that the demon's life force would degenerate so quickly over night- especially since he didn't seem to be weakening in the slightest.

She frowned again.

This wasn't a typical demon. This was a possession- a possession by an extremely strong and experienced spirit. And that sword was used as a medium. It was very clear now that Miroku had been targeted from the start; the 'traveler' had handed Miroku, specifically, that sword, and from there on, the spirit seemed to have had complete access to try and take up residence inside him.

Trepidation rising, Sango grimaced. It sounded rather like a _Tessou-_ or, a Soul Stealer.

It wasn't something she had ever come across herself, but her father had spoken briefly of them. They existed as immortal spirits without a tangible form- latching onto inanimate objects instead. Once the proper rituals had been performed, the demon and the object were linked- the only way to kill the demon was to destroy the object. Of course, because no creature, human or youkai, would be content to live inanimate, they took to possessing humans.

However, in contrast to most possessions, this was meant to be long term. Most demons, whenever they deigned to possess a mortal, did so brutally and violently, so as to immediately take complete control. Their host did not last long.

But, they already knew that this demon had taken its time with Miroku. It had hidden in the sword until it was sure of uninterrupted hours on end in which to assault its unwilling host, and even then, when Inuyasha had found out and attacked, he still had yet to take complete control.

Also, in most possessions, the body remained human until it was discarded, and the demon came out. And yet, Miroku had been able to hold his own against Inuyasha's brute strength and impossible, demon borne speed. That suggested the Tessou had, even as early as last night, begun to enhance Miroku's body to become less of a human's, and more of a demon's.

She gasped- disgust and horror rising together in a terrible blow that left her speechless.

Of course... that was it.

Last night, he hadn't been as far along in that transition. Capable of matching Inuyasha for only a short while and producing miasma- but that had seemed to be the limit of his abilities. But now, he had to have proceeded further along in the transition. And the further we progressed, the more sensitivity he would have to sacred objects.

That was why Miroku's staff had only now rejected him.

She looked miserably down at the forlorn pieces of his staff, then down towards the village the Tessou had disappeared into. "Sorry, Houshi-sama," she murmured, closing her eyes. "...I'm sorry."

Clinical detachment shattered as quickly and abruptly as it had come. Sango bowed her head, shoulders trembling, and choked back a sob, fist clenched so tight around one half of the staff it hurt.

She had her own experience with possession. She _knew_ how terrifying it felt. How sudden and immediate that loss of control was... the realization that he suddenly was locked in the back of his mind, held there by some invisible and omnipresent force that slowly choked back everything until he could not even breathe...

Sango would never have wished that hell on even her worst enemy.

Now Miroku was trapped in it- and with Inuyasha absent, she was his only way out.

She shut her eyes with a gasp, biting into her lip so hard it bled. The responsibility weighed impossibly heavy as iron on her shoulders, leaving her doubled over on herself and shaking. That uncaring monster in him now- god, he had to be terrified... and he _was_ aware, she realized in horror; he'd managed to throw off the Tessou enough to warn Inuyasha. He was just as aware as she had been during her ordeal, if not even more so.

"Houshi-sama," she whispered, voice breaking. "God, Houshi-sama..."

Sango shut her eyes and forced a breath, fighting as hard as she could to tamp down on the ruthless terror tearing her apart from the inside out. The idea of what he was enduring right at this very moment was almost more than she could bear- but she couldn't accept it. She _could not_ listen to the hellish nightmare growing in her mind now; letting it consume her would be the worst thing that she could do.

Miroku had been wary of growing closer to her for _precisely_ this reason. If she let herself be distracted by the thought of what he was fighting through now, be dragged down by the crushing responsibility and the fear that she would fail and the sympathy for his pain- that would only slow her down. He had fought for her without fear until he saved her; if she couldn't handle fighting for him now...

One more long, unsteady breath later, Sango opened her eyes again.

"I will save you, Houshi-sama," she whispered, bowing her head in resolute determination. "I don't know how yet. But I promise. I will."

Her hands trembling, she swiftly reached for the two fragments of his staff and began to dig. She hid them in a shallow grave, covering them with dirt and leaves, then quickly bowed her head in silent prayer over the remains of his weapon, the same way she had seen him do for the countless victims of Naraku and other demons that he had laid to rest. Including, she knew, her own family and village.

She had never truly thanked him for that.

Given the Tessou's threat, Sango had no way to fight until he'd returned. She could not risk leaving to go against him now only for him to make good on his threat to kill Miroku.

The outburst of screaming from the village, however, forced a change of plan.

Sango sat bolt upright at the first cry of terror, staring down towards the village in alarm. The second one had her on her feet, reaching for the knife hidden in her arm guard, her heart pounding. The third had her taking off in a run, the warning the Tessou had given her entirely ignored.

She wasn't running away. She was running to him.

 _Miroku, god... what are you making him do, Tessou?!_

The screams continued as she ran and she only pushed herself faster, weapon hidden in her kimono, unable to stop her mind from racing on and imagining all sorts of terrible nightmares of possibilities. Screams like that, she had heard far too many times in her work as a demon slayer and her time with Inuyasha.

Demons, attacking a village... monsters, bring a clawed hand through an innocent's throat...

And even more recently- it had meant Kohaku.

Kohaku, attacking those who had only made the mistake of standing in front of him.

 _It's destroyed Kohaku, to be made to do such things. If... if that is what the Tessou is making Houshi-sama do..._

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sango ran even faster.

The stench of blood was heavy on the air, and no matter the fact that she had long since become accustomed it, its likely cause turned her stomach. The screams of terror and despair grew only louder, and she whispered another apology to Miroku as she ran, heart breaking.

 _First Kohaku, now Miroku... I'm sorry, both of you. I'm so sorry._

At last, she reached the scene- only to stumble to a halt, frozen in horror.

Devastation. Sheer devastation.

Everywhere she turned, there was death, and with it, suffering, the signs of it both obvious, undeniable, and small, subtle. From a black trail of blood leading from the door of a silent home to the gutted body of a farmer left behind in the middle of the road... everywhere she turned... everywhere she looked...

 _My god. Houshi-sama..._

Sango covered her mouth, staring in wordless horror at the disaster that awaited her inside the village. She had only left him alone for ten minutes at the most... for it to have gotten this bad, so quickly...

The only solace, terrible though it was, was that not everyone had been killed.

The Tessou seemed to have moved carelessly, indiscriminately; slicing his sword with every turn that he made, and if the wound left behind was not fatal, he did not care enough to turn back and finish the job. She could see those injured; some fatally so, but many more that were not, slumped in pain against the sides of old, ruined homes or, those few that were able, running for their lives. This had been a senseless slaughter in every sense of the word- done purely for his own perverse enjoyment.

Shaking, Sango stumbled forward another step, staring numbly at the graveyard that the demon had reduced the village to. She wanted to throw up.

Possibly the only thing that stopped her was the tiny, cold hand that came to grip her ankle.

She gasped, in her alert state any unexpected touch enough to make her jump a mile. She withdrew her knife only by instinct, moving back from the unknown- then found herself rooted the spot by nothing more than sadness.

There was a little girl at her feet.

A little, bloody girl.

She couldn't be more than fix or six, but she lay there now, limp and cold already, her wet eyes hazy but still retaining enough focus to just stare up at her without words. She couldn't talk, because her throat had been cut.

One long- yet excruciatingly shallow- cut. Long enough to insure death- shallow enough to ensure that it took time.

Sango dropped to her knees like a puppet that had had its strings cut.

There was nothing that could be done for her. She'd surely already lost too much blood; her pale kimono was covered in it and the hand that still held on to her ankle was wet and dripping in red. Even her boots squelched in the blood soaked ground, and Sango stared down at the child with tears in her eyes, scarcely able to breathe.

To the Tessou, this had probably been no more than a careless flick of his arm. Something he'd barely even cast a thought towards. Just flick, slice through skin as butter, onto the next victim... he may not even have seen her.

And now, those wide, terrified eyes still stared up at hers, tears streaming weakly down her drained cheeks. They looked to her in a long, silent pleading. A request that she did not have the energy or ability to speak- but that Sango heard still, plain as day.

 _Don't leave._

 _Please, don't leave._

All she could offer was a person to hold her hand as she died. That was it. No possibility of life, not even any easing of pain. Just someone there so she didn't die alone.

Utterly numb, Sango sat back against the bloody ground, tears welling in her eyes. She nodded once.

She didn't think she wanted to be the kind of person who could refuse a look like that- for Miroku or not.

The end came swiftly. As shallow as the cut may have been, the child was just too small to take much more of it- the blood loss or the suffering. Sango held her hand as she died, and as such, she felt her little heart fight and try to hang on, she felt it slow- and, she felt it stop. She couldn't help a sob when the girl's gaze shifted from staring at her to staring _through_ her and, in utter despair, Sango folded the girl's cold arms over her chest and bowed her head again in a silent prayer.

 _Please, whatever gods or spirits that may exist, give this girl the mercy she missed in death. Give her soul peace._

When the screams started again, Sango had no choice but to follow. But the blood from the child remained, the weight on her heart did not lessen, and the memory of her cold, shaking hand in hers would remain with her. Forever.

She'd died for nothing. Nothing at all.

Completely numb, Sango moved in search of the Tessou. The hate, the anger, the desire to kill from before... all of it had been sucked away, leaving her feeling curiously, and painfully, empty. All that remained behind was encompassing grief.

Somehow, even when she at last came upon the demon, the sight of him did nothing but spurn more of it.

Miroku stood alone in a sea of carnage. The black blade dripped by his side, the shifting border between where metal began and where it was covered by blood indistinguishable. The monk's robes were splattered from head to toe with the substance, leaving him soaked in it and dripping as well. His hair had been loosed from his ponytail, falling limply around his shoulders in a black cast of savagery, and his fists by his sides... even from where she stood, Sango could seek that his fingernails had shifted to become claws, like Inuyasha's. And there, at the hem of his robes- there flicked the tip of an actual barbed _tail,_ drifting back and forth over the blood spattered ground.

Claws. Tail. Blood- everywhere.

He was becoming less human by the second.

Her bile rose, and she almost threw up.

Around him was nothing but death. Death, that he had caused.

To see Miroku standing there, _like that,_ to see everything that had happened by his hand... her heart broke.

"If I recall, human, I ordered you to remain behind, with the cost being your monk's life. Did you forget, or did I really misjudge you in how much you care for his life?"

Sango stared hopelessly at his back, feeling herself sink even further into the depths of despair. "I didn't run," she pointed out, weakly. "That's all you cared about, right? That I not run?"

There was a short pause. Then, a single, slight shake of his head. Blood droplets scattered off his hair with the motion, and she felt sick.

"I suppose you are right, human. That is all that matters." And, as silently as a ghost, he turned.

His face, too, was so far away from anything she recognized as _Miroku_ she really almost could've believed it wasn't him standing there at all.

Some of his teeth had already elongated into fangs, again, just like Inuyasha. There was a streaked smudge of blood on one pale cheek but otherwise his features were unmarred and unstained, and to see such flawless skin before what had happened here- it looked out of place. Wrong.

The darkness in his eyes had grown, and along with it an unmistakeable air of careless cruelty that bespoke of everything that had been done to this village. He was _smiling,_ for god's sakes. A slight, satisfied _smile._

He tilted his head to the side at the sight of her, then pointed with his sword again, towards her face. "This body... it reacts again. At the sight of you sad, this body feels something. Tell me, human. What is it this man feels now? I do not like it."

Startled, Sango stared at him then reached to rub furiously at her cheeks, getting rid of the tear marks. "It's sympathy, you monster," she fired back, gripping the knife even tighter under her kimono. "Houshi-sama is sad that I am sad, and wants to help. What kind of a monster are you to have never felt sympathy before?! What, have you never cared for anyone?!"

The demon again paid her little attention, instead allowing his gaze to roam around the decimated village in simple curiosity. "Sympathy... what a joke. You are sad for these villagers, and he in turn is sad that you are sad. You mortals... feeling things for the sake of others like this... it is no wonder you are all pathetically weak. Held back for the sake of others? Nonsense. You! Why would you feel anything for these villagers? You know them no more than I did!"

She stared at him again, the utter callousness of the statement breathtaking. "Feel sad for them..." she whispered in shock, again taking in the carnage of one demon's war, then stumbled a step back in horror. "They had done nothing to you! Why do this?! Why _kill_ them?! What could they have possibly done to you to bring this?!"

He laughed again, running a hand through Miroku's hair and sending some of the blood still dripping from it to the ground. "Done to me?" He sheathed his sword in the reddened, soaked dirt, one hand still wrapped warmly around the dark hilt. "Humans are incapable of doing anything so severe they necessitate my killing them, mortal. They existed here. My sword desired blood. That is all." He smiled slightly, looking down at the cursed weapon that had started it all. "This blade... it still houses things that I need. Right now I remain restrained by a mortal's fragile limitations- I needed to free what of me remained locked in this blade. Blood is what draws that contract, mortal. Blood released the parts of me that were still locked in here- that is all." His clawed fingers curled again and flexed, turning the hilt around in a deft toss; his tail flicked again, sharp barbs catching on the grass and tossing off some of the blood that still clung to it.

"Of course- that is not all. This arrangement is a complex one... I am not only bound through my power locked away in here- I am freed by it. This blade... it also lays claim to all about me that I wish to cast aside. Hunger, greed, desire... all things that weaken me, remain locked in here. Sometimes, I must feed them. As a sword, it hungers for what it is meant for- death. It is not complicated, mortal. It keeps what I wish to cast aside away-and returns what I require. In return, I feed it in blood. A mutualistic relationship, if you will..." He trailed off as he turned the sword again, flinging it in the air to release a scattering arc of black drops of blood, growling out a chilling laugh. "That is all this is, human."

His tail flicked again, eyes gleaming in satiated hunger, and the deadly, black blade gave a pulse in time with its master. A beat of energy that was raw in its hate and agony, something so strong and terrible it nearly staggered her.

And Sango, for her part, just stared at him, rooted to the spot, breath stolen and words robbed.

She'd been wrong. This wasn't like Kohaku at all.

Kohaku was a mindless slave. Naraku took away every memory he had, and memories were what made a person. He slaughtered because a force stronger than his own will ordered him to, and he killed without thought or reason. But it remained that he had been kept alive specifically because he was her weakness. Naraku feared them, no matter what he might say, and Kohaku was what he would trot out in front of her should she ever get too close to him.

But this thing in Miroku would use him only to destroy, and had no purpose other than that.

"Does that make you angry, human?" the Tessou questioned curiously, walking a step forward above the ruined ground. "You no longer look sad. You look angry."

Sango bowed her head, shoulders shaking in intractable grief and sorrow.

The others could say and promise what they liked; in her heart of hearts, she still believed the only peace and salvation for her brother was death. As long as Naraku lived, his fate was a slave's, and even if they won against him and freed her brother- what kind of a life was that? Memories, always, of killing his own family... slaughtering scores of innocents... going against even her...

And now, Miroku.

This demon was immensely powerful. Even housed in a human's body, he'd been able to put up a fight against Inuyasha. Getting Miroku out of this alive would mean shattering the blade. And it just didn't seem possible to do that without killing him. He was too dammed strong.

Of course she would never give up on him, but... to shatter the blade... if it left with Miroku with the Tessou's memories- what then? He was a pacifist. Warring against demons was necessary to save lives, but she didn't think he'd ever raised a hand against a human in anything but self-defense, and even then, he had never killed anyone aside from demons. Now, with those memories...

They would devastate him.

Except, even knowing that- she wanted him alive next to her still.

It was a selfish desire. Kohaku; what she wanted for him transcended anything she wanted for herself. She wanted for him to have peace, and if the only way for him to have it was by death- then so be it. No matter how much she hated herself for it, no matter how many tears she would cry or how much she would want him to live- if it was truly best for him, she would swing the blade herself.

But she didn't care how much Miroku hurt. She just wanted him to survive. No matter how haunted by memories that weren't his, no matter how broken by what he'd been forced to commit, whether he even stayed with her or not... she just wanted him to survive.

 _I don't want to live in a world that he's already left. My parents, my village, Kohaku... I can't take it again._

 _I can not give up another person that I love._

From the sorrow that grasped her now, she at last pulled determination. She at last found strength.

 _I will save you, Houshi-sama._

Sango withdrew the knife from her kimono and faced the Tessou, preparing herself to give everything that she had to give.

 _I will save you._

The Tessou raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. "What's this, now? You want to fight me? You saw me best the hanyou. What, you think _you_ will be strong enough? This, I must see."

She didn't speak- she was beyond words.

She just attacked.

Sango fought against Miroku the same way he had for her when she had been possessed by the salamander demon. He struck in what were always meant to be fatal attacks, and she went only to wound, only to incapacitate. She wished she could free him without hurting him, like he had done for her, but this wasn't a human she was fighting. Miroku had the skill and strength of a demon swordsman right now. She couldn't afford to hold back.

With every lightning fast blow, he came closer and closer to her heart or her neck- whereas she got no closer to the sword. She had no idea how to shatter it, was sure it wasn't as simple as brute force- but she had nothing else to try.

And the longer the fight went on, the more apparent a single, depressing truth became: he was taking it easy on her.

He'd struggled against Inuyasha. She wasn't a match for Inuyasha. Therefore, it followed that she wasn't a match for him. And by the steadily growing grin on his face, she was right. To take him down without killing him- she didn't have the strength.

"This is what you come at me with?!" the demon laughed, bringing his sword against hers in such a resounding blow it made her vibrate all the way the down to the base of her spine. "Weak willed, slow... you are pathetic, mortal. You are not worth the waste of time you have become!"

One clawed hand flashed forward to catch her by the wrist and twist in a devastatingly fast attack; pain shot through her arm and Sango cried out, fingers forced to open and release her sword to clatter on the ground.

The deadly change from a battle to completely out of control was so fast it was nauseating, and Sango struggled, fighting to pull away- but his hold was as unyielding as metal. "N- _no!"_ she gasped out through gritted teeth, struggling again as hard as she could to gain control again. _"Let me go!" Houshi-sama!_

The Tessou advanced further still, the hold on her arm so tight she could not even pull away. His fangs glinted in bloody light and he forced her wrist to bend even more- every pained whimper that escaped drawing a broader smile. "You thought this would be enough to best me. This?! You humans are pathetic! The fact that your mere existence gives this weakling strength- the strength to stand up to even me..." The glow of bloodlust in his eyes morphed into vicious hate- the claw around her wrist shifting from an amused hold to one that trembled with desire to kill.

"Lie back and die," he hissed, and it took her a moment to realize he wasn't talking to her. "Lie back and die, pathetic human. Your kazanna will be _mine._ Your love for this girl will kill her and when she dies so will you. The longer you resist the more I will make this _torture!"_

The sword whirled through the air in a violent slash so quick she could hear the wind, whirling straight down towards her throat; Sango's arm rose by instinct alone to block it from taking off her head-

And the Tessou froze.

Sango remained paralyzed, still crouched in as defensive of a position as she could get- but all she could see was the Tessou frozen in mid air, blade quivering- features now torn in inhuman, murderous fury. He struggled against a seemingly invisible force that held him in place, fangs bared, growl growing from a low hiss in his throat to a barely contained snarl of hate. "Y-you..." he ground out at last, but still not to her, "you pathetic human, you dare..."

And at last, she got it.

It was Miroku! Miroku had stopped him!

 _And now's my chance!_

 _Houshi-sama! Hold on!_

Sango lunged forward, going straight for the sword, reaching out in sheer desperation. She got as far as grabbing the sword by the blade so tight it dug into her hands and yanking before one sandled foot swung around to collide with her chest and sent her to the ground in a heap.

" _You,"_ Miroku hissed, all easygoing and uncaring pretenses dropped. He grabbed her by the collar and yanked her upright, dark eyes flashing. " _You_ are the cause. He intercedes for your sake. His will is all but eradicated but what remains is still strong enough to save your pathetic life. First he seals he Kazanna... now he prevents me from killing a human like yourself..." His eyes darkened in rage, entire form beginning to shake. "Your interference no longer amuses me, human. Your Kazanna _will_ be mine, and if this girl is what gives you strength, then I will destroy your strength is the most painful way possible. I will break it down, step by step, until you have no more hope left. And in that moment that your despair is at its peak, your soul will fall prey to mine, and you will no longer have any resistance."

The fist that came towards her head to knock her out again was expected, and Sango found herself only able to fight for a few miserable moments before unconsciousness returned, and she saw only darkness.

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 _Sango vs Miroku!Tessou, next chapter! Reviews, anyone :)_


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the review!

 **This chapter is rated M for non-con sexual content.**

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This time, when Sango woke, it was gradually.

This time, when Sango woke, she wasn't alone.

Her head was still pounding, and from the moment that she had any awareness at all, there was one single, chilled land lying against her breast. It took her several long, sluggish moments to truly register what was happening, but then...

The cold hand was fondling her, claws scratching her through her kimono, and then another was disgustingly _gently_ entangled in her hair, separating the strands in a lover's caress.

His hands were on her, not in the way one fought another, but in an unquestionably close, _intimate_ fashion, softly moving and investigating the way no one, not even Miroku, had permission to. The hand in her hair shifted to cradle her neck, and Sango twitched away violently, rolling onto her side in disgust- only to find that her hands were bound, and her knife, now gone.

At that Sango gasped, trying to roll even further away in alarm, but a cold hand against her shoulder forced her to stop, human fingers and demon claws gripping her arm to hold her in place. She couldn't stop herself from shivering at the touch and flinched away, horrified. The hand was as cold as death. No human alive had skin like that.

"Now, now, human. No need to be so afraid. After all, I'm simply your precious monk, isn't that right?"

Sango shuddered and kept her eyes shut, refusing to look at him. "You're nothing like Houshi-sama."

There was a chilling laugh, and then, the cold hand on her shoulder yanked so hard she was forced down onto her back. Sango still turned her head away, eyes shut tight, even when she felt the monk lean over her, the hand never once leaving her shoulder.

"You... _San-go..._ " the demon murmured, pronouncing her name as if she were a curious, foreign delicacy, not a person. "Every human has a breaking point. A breaking point that, when I chose to possess a host, I must find. I must find what they care for most. Demolishing it is how I demolish resistance. You are this human's breaking point. I knew since I first saw you that you meant something to him. I knew that I would have to kill you. He resists me, even now..." The demon paused, the cold claw of a hand on her shoulder still refusing to retreat. "It interests me, _Sango,_ what you humans are most passionate about. Sometimes a parent. Sometimes a friend. Sometimes a child. And, then, sometimes... you. People like you. What is that emotion that this body feels for you?"

Nauseated to the point of getting sick, Sango pulled away still, opening her eyes now but keeping her head turned away. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see Miroku like this.

"I don't pretend to know how Houshi-sama feels," she snapped crisply, still staring away from him. "But he- he has told me he loves me."

"Love?" the Tessou questioned, and she gritted her teeth, rage and bloodlust coursing through her veins to the point that it was nearly uncontrollable. "Now, that... that is something I do not understand. To love is to be weak. To be beholden to another. Tell me, human. Why make such a choice? That dog eared hanyou with you... he wields the sword of the Lord of the West. In that blade lurks a power greater than my own; he could've killed me with it if he so wished- yet, he held back. You- you, mere human, you could not have killed me... but you could've saved your own life. You could've turned your back and left when I ordered you come. Surely you did not believe I would spare you. Why make this foolish choice, human? It leads only to death."

Sango stared bitterly away, refusing to look at Miroku. She feared if she did, the sight of him just might break her. She looked instead to the rotting wall of the house the Tessou appeared to have dragged her to, the splatter of blood low on the dark side of the room, and she swallowed, not wanting to think of who had given up their lives just so she and the Tessou could have a roof over their heads.

The clawed hand whipped about faster than she could see it coming, turning her face to the side in a violent slap that left her winded. "I asked you a question, human! Why do you and your kind make such a choice?!"

Sango was stubborn to a fault, she couldn't deny it, but with the blood already beginning to well in the claw marks on her face and his grip tightening by the second, she knew she it was wisest to answer him now before she antagonized him into slicing her throat. "It's no choice!" she hissed back, struggling in vain to yank away. "And if you can't understand that then no words will explain it to you."

Miroku's dark eyes searched hers, but in them there was nothing familiar, and she met his gaze unflinchingly, glare stubborn and unyielding. _Miroku, if you can see me at all, know that I'm trying. I'm trying as hard as I can to get you free. I just don't know what to do._

Miroku at last turned away, shaking his head again. "Humans," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, and turned his gaze towards the ceiling. "Humans. Good luck trying to understand them."

Sango gritted her teeth, holding back the response she so much wanted to give, and forced herself to remain silent instead.

The Tessou at last turned towards her again, and the curiosity she'd found there before was now entirely gone. "You serve no use to me, wench, except to unlock the power I know this monk has for my use. I'm done trying to understand you. I will break you. I will use you in every way that he wants me not to, and before I have finished, I promise you that you will beg me for death."

"I'll beg you for nothing, youkai," she spat, but her resistance only yielded amusement.

"Please. By all means, continue to fight me. That will make your downfall all the more sweet in the end."

Miroku shifted to sit directly in front of her, leaving her curling herself against the wall to get away from him. He laughed quietly at her defiance, the wicked smile that spread on his lips nothing that she could've ever imagined Miroku being capable of, and then, he reached for her again.

"He gets angry when I touch you here," he said flatly, corner of his mouth still pulled up in a grin, and roughly grabbed at her breast. There was no attempt made to be sensual; sexual undertones lacked entirely, the Tessou's attack feeling more like a physical assault than the threatening of rape, and the Tessou smiled at her, hand continuing to fondle her. She bit her lip not to cry out and he reached for her again, this time his hand curling around her cheek, one claw brushing under her eye. "Here. I can almost hear him screaming at me now... he is so very upset, Sango. I wonder- is this how he wants to touch you?" The hand stroked her face again, freezing and unwelcome to every degree and she could not stop herself from pulling away, shutting her eyes against what was going to happen next.

"Does he want to touch you here?" Hands, those repulsive, cold hands wandering down to part her kimono, then slide inside. "Here?" One slid against her bare breast and Sango cried out again, an uncontrollable jerk wracking through her as she tried to curl away; the claws that gripped her side stopped her.

"Is this somewhere only he can touch, Sango? Is that it?" The cold hands meandered further underneath her kimono, crawling along her chest, her stomach. "Or is it somewhere that he merely wants to touch? That he dreams of but in reality, can never have?" A finger paused against her stomach and Sango turned away again, nausea rising.

Miroku's touch may have been unwanted nearly every time it came- but it felt nothing like this. Miroku's wandering, naughty hand that seemed to simply be waiting to be smacked away... he understood boundaries. He understood choice. His hands always felt- innocent. Like it was a game. See how long he can touch her before the hand came to give him a righteous smack.

Here... it felt like no game.

And it didn't feel like Miroku, but when she looked at him, that was what she saw. Miroku.

Violet eyes bright with a mischievous glint, mouth turned upwards in a tiny grin. Loose, dark hair shifting with every motion he made, but whenever it fell to obscure his expression he pushed it back, as if he wanted her to see who he was. Devastatingly familiar features, contorted in devastatingly unfamiliar cruelty.

 _Miroku..._

 _Miroku-!_

The hands continued on the journey down, shifting from where Miroku would be slapped away from to where even he understood was off limits. One cold hand moved to rest directly on her waist- the other, moved steadily further down still. It stopped barely an inch away from its target, and the wave of tremors that came through her then were uncontrollable and nauseating.

 _Please. Don't._

 _Please, Miroku._

 _Please..._

There was a soft, amused laugh.

"He is so angry, now, Sango." The thumb moved along her hip and she jerked away, biting her lip so hard she drew blood. "He is so, so furious with me. He is screaming... so loud I can hear him, now... he says to leave you alone." Another faint laugh. "He says he will give up, if that is what it takes. He will give me his body, his kazanna, if I release you now. He begs me to stop. Heh. Weak mortals."

Sango's eyes widened at the words, and now she couldn't stop herself from twisting to face him in alarm, chest heaving with panic. "W-what?!" she gasped, horrified, and Miroku nodded at her, smiling still.

"Yes. He would as good as kill himself, for your sake. Ha... he screams still." The Tessou shook his head quietly, still looking down at her. "It never fails to amuse me. The spirit can take no end of torture and one will still stand and resist, rebel to the very end. But raise a hand against one they care for, and suddenly? Pleas for mercy. Bowing in submission. Giving in after a mere fraction of the pain they themselves withstood." The Tessou smiled again, his hand drifting closer still; the look on his face was horrifying gleeful. "He's sobbing now. Pleading for me to stop. Assures me if I only take my hand away, he will die."

"Houshi-sama!" she cried out, unable to stop herself. She looked right into the Tessou's eyes and shook her head, trying to see past the demon and on to the real Miroku. "Houshi-sama! No! Don't! You mustn't!"

"Oh, but he wants to, Sango." The Tessou smiled again, but left his hand still. "He wants to, very much. He'd rather you die before you suffered such an indignity on his behalf. Heh... foolish mortals."

And then, at last, the hands withdrew.

Gasping for breath, Sango pulled away from the demon, pushing herself as far from him as she could get and straining at the ropes that bound her, struggling not to get sick. The demon laughed again, staying still and just watching her. "Neither of you should be overly concerned. I have no attraction to humans. I'd sooner die myself than defile my body with a human's filth- I was only interested in your reactions. You can relax, houshi. ...For now."

His words did nothing to calm her and she remained on edge, curled in the corner and breathing hard, flinching at his every move. Miroku sat back against the wall himself, raising his dark blade to the dim candlelight and turning it, looking on as blood stains shone against the fire.

"He is still so upset," the Tessou murmured, sounding almost confused. "He is still begging for me to let you go. Well, all humans must cling to hope, I suppose... it is all you fragile beings have. That makes it all the more glorious when you are finally crushed. You cling to hope of victory and survival, all the way to the very end." He paused, looking up at her, Miroku's dark eyes flashing in the low light. "Do you hope, Sango? Do you hope that I will let you go?"

Still shaking, Sango pushed herself even further into the corner and managed a shake of her head, unable to look away. "I don't hope for anything that requires the cooperation of youkai like you. I'll free myself, and Houshi-sama, through my own strength." But her voice was shaking, and whatever earlier confidence she'd had had been shattered.

The demon laughed in supreme confidence again. "Think whatever you like, human."

He left her alone for a few minutes, giving her time to regain any composure she had left and start struggling for the weakest threads of a plan. But she felt hopeless now; disgusted and weak, trembling in the corner and unable to tear her eyes away from the demon that watched her still. She couldn't even stop him when his hands were inches away from violating her in the worst way possible. And she still thought she could get her hands on that sword?! She couldn't even save herself.

When Miroku at last rose again, she had gotten no further along in hopeless strategizing, and her heart started to pound again at the mere sight of him drawing nearer. He bared his fangs, growl growing ever loud in his throat with every step he took. "Cease your incessant screaming, mortal," he snarled at Miroku, glare intensifying in hate. "You will lie back and watch as she dies for your sake. The more you struggle and resist, the more painful her death will be."

The sword flashed down as a ripple of steel, biting into kimono and flesh as it tore down her right arm, the cut beginning at her shoulder and continuing all the way down to the base of her hand. It was shallow, done only to bring pain, and it took everything Sango had not to scream.

"Weak, pathetic mortals. Who are you to stand against a demon? If you are not there to serve us, if you are not there to be eaten by us, then you are nothing more than a waste of space." He brought his foot forward in a violent kick that sent her sprawling, then again grabbed her by the collar and yanking her up to dangle in the air before him. "You two fight me together as if you have some semblance of hope or escape. You want a chance of escape? I'll hand it to you on a silver platter, wench." With a flash of claws the ropes binding her had been cut- and skin, along with it. Sango gasped and struggled away, kicking out as hard as she could- but the demon only laughed in Miroku's voice once again, fangs bared, eyes glinting.

"Despair. Both of you. Give me delicious _despair."_

Miroku's cursed hand reached up to flatten her back against the wall, the other locking around her throat. She beat senselessly against his shoulders, his neck, his face; blows that would've sent Miroku sprawling the demon withstood as if they were nothing more than paper and he leaned closer, grin widening all the while.

"Give up hope." The sword meandered up along her arm again, crisscrossing cuts and wounds to create a vicious patchwork of blood and she let out a choked cry, the pain almost more than she could bear. "Give up dreams." The fist tightened. "Give up love." The blade twitched up to rest against her chest, not cutting- but pressing just hard enough to make it even harder to breathe.

The cursed hand around her throat squeezed again, unyielding and unforgiving no matter how hard she thrashed. Sango found herself kicking and shaking in mid air, every pathetic gasp she managed to grab even weaker than the last, and her lungs were burning. Every tiny gasp left her acutely aware of just how _not enough_ it was and with it came an ever increasing sense of sheer panic.

Miroku's impossible smile was the only thing she could see, and even it began to waver in and out of focus as her desperate hold on consciousness at last started to wane.

Then, miracle of all miracles, the prayer beads locked around his cursed hand began to glow.

The demon jerked back in disbelief, the motion loosening his suffocating hold just enough to heave in a lungful of sweet, sweet air. Her head continued to swim now with the intense relief of breathing once more and she couldn't even process what had happened at first, too caught up in just struggling to breathe again and the dark stops clouded over her vision to recede.

The Tessou growled in sheer fury, and when Sango at last managed to focus enough to see him clearly, it was to see the prayer beads were still glowing- and underneath them, his skin was burning.

She stared in shock, too stunned to even struggle, gaping at the sight. The Tessou only managed to hold out against the spiritual, sacred power for a few more seconds before he gave in to toss her to the side again, this time to howl in fury and pain and scrabble at the sizzling prayer beads that remained burning around his wrist.

" _Filthy houshi!"_ he screeched, body contorting in war against the sacred power locked away in the beads. "You've been channeling yourself through the beads the whole time, of course... _that's_ how you've stayed so strong! _Filthy, pathetic humans!"_ The claws were a blur of black and blood again, slashing down through his own arm; Sango cried out in alarm but the prayer beads held. Skin and cloth, however, did not, and the demon tore through the arm guard in a vicious gash and bit deep into Miroku's wrist, drawing blood in an enraged burst of fury. " _I'll kill you! I'll take your soul and crush into hell with your precious Sango's! I'll kill both of you!"_

Sango stared at him from the ground, still gasping for breath- her heart pounding.

Miroku had stopped him from suffocating her.

He'd stopped him from killing her _again._

Miroku was still fighting with everything he had. He'd retained enough strength, enough will, to channel what power he still had into his prayer beads- for no other reason than to get the demon off of her. She couldn't imagine how difficult it had been- and he'd still fought, not for himself, but for _her._

If he could fight when all he had left was his spirit, then she damn well could fight as well.

Sango rose shakily, grasping at her wounded shoulder and barely able to keep herself on her feet. But she faced the Tessou without fear, eyes burning, heart pounding with a single desire:

Free Miroku.

The demon's enraged eyes turned to her and, all confidence and amusement gone as he advanced, fangs still bared. He lunged, more animal than human, and grappled her straight to the ground, seeking only to pin, to exhaust, to hurt- not to kill.

The sword whirled for her and Sango went against all the training she had to catch it by the blade, gritting her teeth from the pain of it but still hanging on. "You'll never kill him," she gasped, knees buckling from the strain of it. "I won't allow it."

The demon growled, driving the sword forward with even more force- and she only responded by gripping it even tighter. The blade dug into her hand and she hung on still, refusing to let go even when the blood trickled out from her fist to drip to the floor.

" _You won't allow it,"_ he quoted, then snarled. "You won't allow me to kill him, he won't allow me to kill you... yet you'll throw yourselves in front of my sword without pause." His eyes gleamed and he pressed forward again, forcing Sango onto her back and trying to knock her hand down. "Insects like you should cower to be stepped on."

" _I will never allow you to have Houshi-sama!"_

The sword in her bloodied hand pulsed, a single wave of energy expanding with such strength it nearly made her drop it, and the Tessou gave a small, feral grin. "Yes. Despair. Give in to the hopelessness. My sword feeds on everything that you feel. Soon, you will be nothing but dust. Fight me all you want, human; you _can not_ win."

Despair? Hopelessness?

In the moment that the sword had pulsed, she had felt nothing like that.

She had felt determination. She had felt anger. She had felt strength. She had felt _love._

The sword hadn't taken in grief or pain, because there had been none to take. But it had still taken in something.

She gasped.

 _That was it._

The sword fed on emotion. Whatever emotion the wielder had, it fed on. But it was not discriminatory; it ate whatever it was fed. It if was fed hate, it grew on hate. If it was fed love, it grew on love.

With the Tessou as its wielder, it fed on desire. Greed. Hatred.

But in that moment, it had been buried in her flesh- and it had fed off her.

She could overpower the demon's presence in that sword. All she needed was the chance.

Breathing hard, but at last with a true ember of hope burning within her, Sango kicked mightily at Miroku, forcing him stumbling back while she regained her strength. She squeezed her burning, bleeding fist and barely made it to her feet, panting all the while- but plan in mind.

She looked right in his- Miroku's- eyes, and determination growing by the second, spoke.

"You want to kill me? Then try it. No more games, Tessou. You said all it'll take to crush him is to kill me? Then come. Just try it." She spread her arms, and the demon, confident, cruel creature that he was, just grinned again.

She had no doubt that he suspected she was going to try something- but, throughout all of her encounters with him, humans had been nothing to him but insignificant pawns. That one could devise a strategy to defeat him was beyond his comprehension.

She would rely on that, to let him get close enough, and then...

The demon grinned again, eyes gleaming with excitement. "He screams again for you, Sango. He screams again for you to not give up, or at least to run and save yourself. What is it that you wish for, mmm? Were you not just so confident that you would win? What is it you hope to accomplish? For when you die, the monk will break."

She stood unflinchingly, eyes still only for Miroku's. "Yes. I know." No matter how much she hated that fact, it was true. Miroku had proven it before: he cared for her more than his own life. If she died, then the demon would be able to kill whatever of Miroku was left. They would either both survive this- or neither would.

"If I can not get you of him- to die together will be my solace," she answered, honestly. "I will not run. No more games, Tessou. If I can't stop you, then I will die with him. I will fight you- to the death, if that is what it takes." _I will save you, Houshi-sama. I swear it._

To one who so blatantly did not understand the human heart... to a demon that so clearly could not comprehend what it was like to care so deeply for another that it was nothing to risk death...

To the Tessou, it was believable.

She could only hope Miroku saw through it, and trusted her.

The demon merely grinned. "If your wish is to die with him, Sango, then I will grant it." He raised his sword, growled once more, and began to advance one final time. "Perish, mortal. You stand before a creature who has survived a thousand lifetimes, enduring things you can not even conceive of. You never had a hope of success against me- either one of you."

The blade swung, embedding in her stomach in a burst of blood and agony.

"This monk's kazanna will be mine- as will your life!"

And in that moment, Sango knew nothing but determination.

"C-Claim my life if you so wish it... d-demon...!" She brought her foot forward in one excruciating step, then another, driving the sword even deeper inside her. "But..." Sango gasped, chest shuddering in agony, and a hot globule of blood rose to force her throat spasm to cough it up. It splattered against Miroku's face in a disgusting sight that somehow only gave her more strength. " _You will you never have Houshi-sama._ " She grabbed the blade then, pulling it in further when her legs failed her and her strength began to flag, meeting the demon's gaze and refusing to break it. _He will never have you, Miroku._

" _If I die, then I'll take you with me!"_

In her mind, the memory of Miroku proposing by the riverside, telling her that if peace should come, then he wanted it spend it with her:

Love.

In her mind again, the idea of their precious future that had formed- she and Miroku, alive, Naraku, gone, and between them children and happiness beyond that which she had ever dared to dream:

Hope.

The idea that someday, they really could survive to be together, fight past Naraku and Miroku's Kazanna and her tortured brother and find a future worth grasping:

Peace.

The sword pulsed again.

She looked to Miroku again, and in his eyes, found only the seething hatred and rage of a demon.

This time, it didn't weaken her. This time, it gave her strength.

 _Because, behind those eyes, is Miroku. I believe he is still alive. Still fighting._

The sword pulsed again.

Her strength against the demon's weakness. Her hope against his despair. She gripped the sword as tight as she could and took one last step on shaking legs, feeling it dive so deep into her chest the tip reached her back, and the scream she gave was still not of agony.

It was a war cry.

At last, the demon began to realize that this wasn't suicide. This was her last attempt to fight back. However, he realized it too late.

She could feel the blade heating up, struggling to take in all that she had to give against the void of the sociopath that stood across from her. The heat from the sword was agonizing inside her chest but she had no choice but to bear it, and bear it, she did, still holding the sword and _her monk_ in place, refusing to let go even if her life depended on it.

It was a battle of wills, in every sense of the word. And, in the end, the demon couldn't win. Full blooded demons did not feel the way humans did. They weren't born loving, hating, laughing, caring. They were born with hearts as cold as ice, and unless something melted that ice, they never learned how to feel anything beyond bloodlust, hate, and revenge.

This demon could never understand why she would fight to the death through every pain imaginable- but if the cost was Miroku's life, she'd lay down her blade in a second.

This demon could never understand why Miroku, even broken down and trapped in the very worst possible situation, could still find the strength to resist.

The blade hissed and smoked, darkness melting away in a vaporizing mist to bleach the black away from the blade, leaving behind only a regular sword- and with the darkness in the sword's disintegration, that same horrible dark in Miroku's eyes met the same fate. The Tessou's hold on the sword went limp, fisted hands falling weakly to his sides- bringing the blade to rip out of her at last in an excruciating move that left her screaming out an agonized cry, barely able to see through the pain of it.

But the energy in the sword was gone.

And with it, the Tessou.

Physical pain left her trembling like a leaf and barely able to see- but the mental anguish of Miroku's still undetermined fate was far worse than any hell that had been inflicted on her body. He'd been aware until the end, she _knew_ it, but in the end, that meant nothing. If the Tessou had still worn his soul down enough... if he'd been possessed for too long...

Just because the monster had been expelled did not mean enough of Miroku had made it through for him to live.

Her mouth suddenly dry, Sango blinked past the pain and raised her eyes to find his- hoping, hoping so much it made her heart hurt, that what she would find would not be an empty shell.

What she found was terrifying.

The rage contorting his features had vanished- but Miroku had not returned.

He just remained blank.

An empty canvas.

Her heart stopped.

"N-no..." she whispered. "No, no, Houshi-sama, no..." Her strength failed her at last and she dropped, fisting her hands in his robes only to pull him down with her to the floor. "No, Houshi-sama, no. Please. _Please."_ She fell weakly against him, dropping her head to his shoulder and winding her arms even tighter around him, crushing his utterly limp form to her. "Houshi-sama! Please! Come back!"

 _I can't have been too late. Please god, don't let me be too late._

She pushed herself off of the monk with what little strength she had, cupping his pale, chilled face in both her hands. Blood from her sliced palms spread and smudged all over his cheek, stains that she wiped futilely at with her thumbs. "Houshi-sama," she pleaded, shaking him slightly. "Houshi-sama!"

But even worse than the dark cruelty that had overtaken his eyes when the demon had moved into his body was the encompassing emptiness that lay there now.

He stared through her, eyes unblinking, unseeing, un _feeling,_ face entirely lacking in anything that symbolized awareness. He looked like nothing more than an empty shell.

Sango stared at him, shaking so hard she feared she might fall apart.

"Houshi-sama," she whispered again, a broken plea, leaning forward to touch her forehead to his. "Please. Don't give up now. We made it this far... please, come back to me. _Please, Houshi-sama."_

Her shoulders trembled in a half-sob, half agonized cry. Miroku still did not even blink.

The look on his face was more torturous than anything she had seen there thus far.

Sango shook him weakly again; he swayed back and forth as an empty shell, head only held up by her hands.

Utterly heartbroken, Sango sagged forward, still cupping his face, and met his unresponsive lips with her- her wounded chest, heaving with sobs all the while.

 _I'm so sorry._

 _Forgive me, Miroku._

 _I was too late._

At last, drained of all strength, Sango slid down to lean her head in the crook of her neck, silent, agonizing tears welling in her eyes to stain his shoulder, her hand still wound tightly around his. In the end- it hadn't mattered at all. She'd been too late.

Sango didn't know how long she'd been lying there when the slow, but definite, feeling came, of a hand on her ass.

She froze.

Shaky but what were _definitely_ fingers- familiar ones at that- groping her. Groping her in the way only one man had ever dared to.

Her heart stopped.

"Dear lady Sango, I seem to have sustained a blow to the head. How exactly did we come to be here? I'm afraid I can not recall. Not that I am objectionable to our current state, of course." And his fingers _squeezed._

Sango just lay there in utter, complete shock.

He was alive.

He was _back._

"Eh... Sango?" Miroku trailed off his nervously, his fingers still now. "You have yet to hit me. ...Again, not that I am objectionable, but, well... I can't say that it's not frightening." He laughed nervously, the hand against her still frozen, waiting for the inevitable slap.

In that moment, Sango just broke.

She flung herself forward again, arms going around him and burying her head against his chest, shoulders shuddering through sobs, a wretched wail of suffering buried in her throat as she pulled him even closer, gasping for breath and all the while, reveling in this, _him,_ being so close, so near, so wonderfully _alive._

" _Houshi-sama!"_


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for reviewing!

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All Sango wanted to do was cling on to Miroku and never let go. But, unfortunately, this was the real world, and the real world did not allow such luxuries.

Wiping her eyes, Sango at last pulled back and looked towards the door, her breaths still shaky. "W-we should get out of here, Houshi-sama." No matter how devastating the massacre in the village had been, the Tessou _had_ left many alive- and if they decided to come after Miroku, neither one of them were in any sort of state to defend themselves. "Find Inuyasha."

"Er- right, of course, Sango," Miroku mumbled, seeming dazed, and he looked towards the door again in confusion. "But you still haven't answered my question. Where is _here,_ exactly? Last thing I remember, I..." He trailed off into silence, frowned, then looked at her again. "I don't remember. I don't remember the last thing that I remember. Sango, what's going on?"

Sango's eyes widened, and she stared at the blood-spattered monk in disbelief. He truly remembered nothing? That would be a blessing in and of itself, and one that she had never dared to believe would come true. Not that her concerns had been with Miroku's memory- as of late, she'd only been focused on getting him back alive. She'd never once dared hope for anything more than that. But he'd seemed to have been aware throughout his entire possession- it seemed extremely unlikely that he just simply didn't remember.

When she just found herself gaping at him, unable to speak, Miroku's unbearably innocent smile fell a little. "Sango? Are you all right?" He started to reach for her- the now purified blade, still grasped in his cursed hand. Blood dripped from the slick sword- hers.

"Houshi-sam-"

But it was too late.

Miroku stared at the weapon in his fist like it had grown two heads. "What's... this?" he mumbled, tilting his head to the side. "When did I...?" He turned it over, appearing genuinely confused.

Her gut churning, Sango grabbed his wrist in hers and tried to pull his attention up to only focus on her. "Don't worry about it now, Houshi-sama," she gasped, desperate. Her words drew his unsure gaze again and she covered his hand with hers, her usual embarrassment and hesitancy over any sort of intimacy between them laid aside for another time. She glanced towards the wall of her one time prison cell and grabbed his wrist tighter, preparing to stand. "Come on, we need to get-"

"Sango, you're bleeding!"

She blinked, his sudden concern over what she'd already known enough to give her pause. "I- well, so are you, Houshi-sama!" she stammered, then pulled on his wrist again, desperate to just get out of here. "That's why- ...H- Houshi-sama?"

Because, in looking back at him to try and get him to stand with her, she found that calm, smiling monk was gone.

In his place was something that sent her heart to her feet.

Miroku still knelt by her side, now gazing at their conjoined hands and the knife in a wordless stare. His eyes were wide in terrified disbelief, entire form trembling as he just crouched there, transfixed. "You're... you're bleeding..." he whispered- but, in it, she didn't hear the voice of someone grounded in the present.

He was remembering.

"Houshi-sama!" she cried, turning fully to face him and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Houshi-sama, focus! Can you hear me?! Houshi-sama!"

But he didn't respond at all- it was as if he couldn't even hear her. "Bl- bleeding... you're bleeding..." he trailed off into a horrified silence, still transfixed by the blood on their hands, then dropped back limply onto his knees- empty, staring gaze leaving Sango horrified.

It looked just like Kohaku, when...

Her mind stopped her before she went too far down that road, but the realization had already been made, and the implications that came with it had her grabbing him even harder and pulling the knife away. "Houshi-sama, look at me- I'm okay. You didn't hurt me." _At least, not anymore than you hurt the others._ "We'll both... Houshi-sama, we'll both..."

Except her speech wasn't doing anything to calm the monk down. He stared at her in increasing terror, breaths coming shorter and features contorting until he just _broke._

" _Stay back!"_ he screamed, throwing himself away from her like she'd hit him. _"Get away!"_

The terrified look on his face squeezed painfully at her heart, and then the monk scrabbled away, leaving behind the sword as he struggled for the door on his hands and knees. "No, no, no, _no no no, noooo..."_

" _Houshi-sama!"_

Her fist snapped close a millisecond too late, grasping a handful of air instead of black and violet robes, and Miroku was gone.

Sango stared after him breathlessly, heart pounding. The bloody trail he'd left behind would've worried her more if she wasn't sure at least half of it was hers; as it was, she knew he wasn't fatally injured. She had that chance, more than once; she hadn't been able to take it. Miroku wasn't about to die from blood loss or injury.

But left to his own devices, she shuddered to think of what might befall him. In his state of mind...

Shaking her head at herself, Sango drew herself up shakily to her feet, cast one last look around the dirtied hovel, then followed Miroku's bloody trail to the door and at last emerged into the light once again. The sunlight was blinding and she squinted, shading her eyes to try and find where the monk had gone, but the field was already deserted. He must've taken off at a run- although, his speed had to be limited. It felt like an age ago that he'd been hit with Hiraikotsu, but it had happened, and she'd gotten in a good kick or two to his ribs- he wouldn't be able to breathe deeply enough to run.

Although, Miroku was more than likely beyond pain by this point.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sango glanced down at the wed, red path that snaked off into the grass. She made it three steps into her sprint before it hit her that the monk wasn't the only one whose speed would be limited, and she collapsed.

" _Damn_ it!" she hissed, curling in sheer agony atop the wet grass. Her entire right arm bloodied and cut, both hands sliced through the palm from her blocking the Tessou's sword by the blade, and the place where he had stabbed her all the way through was most definitely not going to take care of itself. Not to mention who knew how many blows to the head. She had been ever so slightly dizzy for a while now and she was starting to realize that, even if Miroku didn't desperately need Kagome and her modern day medicine, she just might.

 _That doesn't matter. You can hold out for a while. Miroku likely can't._

"Houshi-sama," she gasped, forcing herself to her knees and, then, her feet. "Houshi-sama, please, wait for me!"

Another struggled two steps and she had fallen again- this time, likely for good.

"No!" she begged, tears of frustration starting to come even as she pulled herself along in a desperate crawl. "No... I can't stop here- I have- I have to- _no!"_

She couldn't run. She could barely even walk. And Miroku, by the looks of it, had sprinted out of here like he'd had a demon on his tail. She would never catch up to him no matter how hard she tried.

For the first time since this entire nightmare began, Sango started to sob.

She hadn't figured out he'd been possessed until it was too late.

She hadn't been able to stop that demon from using _her monk_ to slaughter innocent people.

She hadn't been able to stop him from hurting Inuyasha.

And now, she wasn't able to reach him when he needed help the most.

All she'd been able to do was force the demon out of him without killing him, which she knew was a feat in and of itself- but as she lay here now, unable to chase after him, before her the bloody footprints of the monk's desperate dash away from her, it felt pitiful. Exorcising the demon far too late, when the terrible memories had already been ingrained into his head and the blood, already spilled?

She'd done _nothing!_

The guilt ridden gasp made her shut her eyes, fists clenched so tight the wounds turned agonizing. " _Stop it!"_ she implored desperately to herself, panting hard, the guilt so strong it burned throughout her entire body in regret. _"Just- stop it, Sango. Stop it!"_

Stop thinking about what could not be changed, stop consuming herself with regrets, stop _wasting time_ feeling _sorry_ for herself. She was still a demon slayer. She'd been trained for battle all her life. And in battle, personal feelings were spared. In times of great stress and danger, her modus operandi needed to be to shut down and operate only with logic, and not leave herself to be distracted by emotion. She'd never been very good at doing that when things got personal, first with Kohaku and now, Miroku- but it was necessary now.

She might not be able to chase after him, but there were those who could. And as long as she lay here feeling sorry for herself, there would be no one looking in the right direction.

Mustering up all her strength, Sango pulled herself to her knees, threw her head back, and _screamed._

" _Kirara! Inuyasha!"_

They would've been looking for her and Miroku since the moment Inuyasha had recovered, which, knowing him, would've been swiftly. She didn't know about Inuyasha, but Kirara could hear her cry from over a mile away. She knew that. And she also knew Inuyasha would be dammed before he let a demon cat beat him in anything.

" _KIRARA! INUYASHA!_

Kirara or Inuyasha could find Miroku. Kirara or Inuyasha could stop him from- from whatever it might do that he'd regret.

" _KIRARAAAAA! INUYASHAAAAAA!"_

They just had to get there in time.

Sango screamed until she'd gone hoarse and her eyes burned with tears, and she kept on still, whispering the names of those whose help she needed so badly. She kept on until the frantic shout of her name reached her ears, and even then, she still lay there across the dirt, trembling so hard she feared she might fall apart.

"Sango-chan!" Kagome cried from overhead, and the throaty growl that came after told her Kirara was her ride. The clawed hand that came to her shoulder did so without warning and she couldn't help but flinch, Inuyasha not having had announced his approach like Kagome, but the hanyou rolled her onto her back without pause and shook her in alarm.

"Sango!" he exclaimed, brow furrowed, and sat back, lowering Tetsusaiga. "You're all right?! We couldn't find you anywhere; where've you and that lecher been?!"

The sight of him was easily one of the best things she'd ever seen in her life. Rubbing furiously at the remaining tears, she pointed after the bloodied trail the monk had left, unable to help a shaky smile of relief so strong it knocked her breathless but not about to waste time feeling happy now. "Never mind me; go after Houshi-sama!"

His expression turned tense, and his hand shifted towards the hilt of his sword again. "Don't tell me he's-"

"No!" Horrified, Sango couldn't stop herself from slapping at the hand on Tetsusaiga- no matter the fact that it was justified. "Don't hurt him, Inuyasha! I killed the demon. I got it out of him and I killed it- he's himself again. But I'm worried." She pushed weakly at a tangled swath of hair, brushing it out of her eyes, and looked again down the path that Miroku had vanished on. "I think he remembers what happened... when he realized, he just-..."

She stopped short, unable to finish her sentence, but Inuyasha nodded without hesitation, golden eyes clouded with anger. At the demon that had possessed their friend, she knew- not at Miroku himself. "Aah, don't worry," he promised, releasing his sword again. "I'll find him. Want a ride?" He offered his back, so usually reserved for Kagome, but Sango shook her head and glanced up above, where Kirara and Kagome were descending fast.

"No, I'll just slow you down." Because no matter how much she wanted to get there as fast as possible, this wasn't about her. "Go ahead; I'll follow with Kirara."

Nodding once, Inuyasha turned away again and took off running so fast he was a blur. She watched him vanish into the trees, then stumbled clumsily to her feet, watching as her cat landed with a muted _thump_ before her and Kagome jumped off her back- bow and arrow already held at the ready. "S- Sango-chan!" Kagome stammered, eyes wide at the sight of her, and Kirara growled deep in her throat, red eyes glowing in what Sango knew was rage.

She waved both of them off just as she had Inuyasha, shaking her head before they could jump to (correct) conclusions. "Don't worry about me! I'm fine! It's Houshi-sama we need to worry about."

"Miroku-sama-?" Kagome's still worried eyes flickered after Inuyasha before she shook her head emphatically and reached for her. "Sango-chan, you're hurt! Inuyasha's looking for Miroku-sama, let us help you now-"

"If you must help now, help on the way!" Sango threw herself over Kirara's back, the pain that whiplashed through her enough to make her grit her teeth but not cry out. "C-come on!" she gasped, tightening her grip on Kirara with one hand even as she removed the other to rub her aching head. "We've got to go after Inuyasha! Kirara!"

"Agh, hey, wait a minute!"

Kagome barely got on in time before Kirara took off, flying after Inuyasha. Even struggling to hold on, the priestess was reaching into that lifesaver that her pack was, pulling out bandages and medicine that Sango barely cast a glance towards. Kagome's caring hands went immediately to her wounded side, taking care of the still sluggishly bleeding wound while Kirara searched for Miroku. "Sango-chan," Kagome panted, even as she worked, "we were so worried! What happened?! Is- is Miroku-sama-?"

"He's fi- alive," Sango managed back, eyes searching the ground. "No worse than I was when I was possessed." She shut her eyes briefly, remembering back to the battle that had changed their relationship so greatly. She remembered very little of it, but the still fading scar on Miroku's wrist was a reminder to what that salamander demon had forced her to do to him. She'd felt horrible afterwards but Miroku, in his calm, joking way, had assured her there was nothing to apologize for.

 _Except, all I did was wound him._

 _Miroku... he..._

A village, slaughtered... Inuyasha, attacked... _freezing, wandering hands._..

Sango fiercely wiped her eyes and again turned towards the ground, searching for any sign of the monk that there was to find. "He'll be fine," she whispered, not as a promise to Kagome, but as desperate assurance to herself. _"He'll be fine."_

Kagome paused but said nothing, surely aware of more than she was letting on. She found herself thankful it was the priestess with her and not Inuyasha; Inuyasha couldn't pick up on the subtle so very often and would push, push, push things that shouldn't be pushed. If he were here now, he'd _push._ And Sango knew she wasn't ready to answer those questions, if she ever would be. Kagome, bless her, wasn't asking.

" _Oi, Kirara! Down here!"_

Sango perked up, leaning further over her cat's side at Inuyasha's cry. Even if she couldn't pinpoint exactly where in the forest it came from, Kirara could, and she angled down immediately, growling again. Kagome worked quicker now, likely aware that the moment they landed, the doctoring would be put on hold; Sango just let her, her heart pounding all the while.

 _Houshi-sama..._

Kirara at least dived through the branches, batting them aside with her giant paws so they didn't scratch her passengers, and landed with a bone-jarring thud that doubled Sango over in another fit of pain. She shut her eyes, breathing hard through Kagome's alarmed cry- but her mind was still focused on what awaited her. Injuries could wait.

"I'm... all right..." she panted, clutching Kirara's mane for support. "I'll be fine..." She sucked in another breath, then forced her eyes open, forcing herself to concentrate through the pain.

Kirara had taken them down as close to Inuyasha as she could without actually landing on the hanyou's back. From where she stood, all she could make out was that Inuyasha had, in fact, found Miroku, and taken him down as easily as Kirara caught fish. The monk was sprawled out on his stomach, Inuyasha sitting casually on his back, legs pinning the squirming figure without any effort, it looked like, from Inuyasha's part. The hanyou still peered down in unsure concern at his friend, clearly sympathetic but not about to let up now, strong enough to easily pin Miroku without hurting him and aware enough to understand that it was necessary.

Miroku's state, however, had her coming to a halt, trembling hand curling by her side in abject denial that this was still happening.

With his torso and legs pinned, only his arms were free, and rather than fight Inuyasha with them, Miroku had instead chosen to hide his head. His fingers interlocked in his still loose hair, arms covering his head from view, buried against the ground, and his shoulders trembled badly. She could hear ragged breathing and incoherent mumbles, and pain came to her again.

"Inuyasha?"

That was all she had to say. That hanyou nodded immediately and started to rise, his hands curled and ready to force Miroku back down if he started to run again. But the monk's only response to Inuyasha withdrawing was to tense up, tremors stilling, murmurs ceasing.

He didn't run.

Sango dropped to her knees, breathing a silent sigh of relief. Inuyasha backed off, pausing for a moment by her side, then simply turning his back, arms folded. "Kagome and I are going to go help the villagers as best we can. We'll leave Kirara; you two just come find us when you're ready."

She started, looking after him in surprise as he withdrew silently towards the confused priestess behind them. It was what she'd wanted, and he'd somehow figured that out without her saying it- she'd been convinced she'd have to either raise hell to get him to leave her and Miroku by themselves, or that she would just have to give in and allow for them to remain under his watchful eye. For him to not only figure out what she wanted but to voluntarily leave...

Sango shook her head at herself, watching as Inuyasha retreated. There was definitely a reason for the uncharacteristic behavior, but it was something she could find out later.

"Inuyasha," she called, before he could leave- even with her eyes still on Miroku. "Where you found me. There's a sword. You- it's not possessed anymore, but, you need to take care of it. There's no telling what spirits it might attract; we need to get it sealed or destroyed entirely."

There was another short pause, and then, the faint sound of running footsteps, dashing over the grass until they vanished entirely.

Leaving them alone.

"Houshi- ...Miroku." Sango moved forward on the wet grass, reaching out an unsure hand to touch his shoulder before she withdrew it just in time, unsure if it would be welcome. "Miroku, Inuyasha and Kagome-chan left. It's just us."

He tensed again, flinching and pulling away even though she hadn't touched him. He scrambled away just like he had in the house, moving backwards in a frantic rush until he was a good several feet away, face still torn and distraught. It took all of her self control to let him retreat without following.

"S-Sango!" he gasped, eyes wide. "But Inuyasha-! He was- he was poisoned-!" The fingers of his cursed hand clenched in the grass and Sango again had to stop herself from moving forward to his side.

"Don't worry, Miroku," she implored worriedly, interrupting his confused, bursts of ramblings. He clearly hadn't been aware, then, that it was the hanyou who had stopped him from running straight to hell away from her. More things that only made her worry. "Inuyasha's healed. You know how he is... even a hole right through that thick skull of his wouldn't keep him down long." She tried a weak smile, not at all expecting one in return; indeed, Miroku didn't smile back, but some of the terror faded, and that was all she could've asked for.

She stayed silent for a moment, watching as the monk looked down at his hands unsurely. He was still shaking, and there was definitely still fear there; it took a few moments for him to gain his ragged breaths under control enough to get out another desperate question.

"The Tessou... what happened to him?"

She darkened at the mention of the demon and looked away, fists clenching. Unaware of how much Miroku remembered or had comprehended, she gave him the full version. "That demon only is able to exist so long as it has a medium. I shattered the sword while he was still in you; that should've killed him." When he continued to still look hesitant, fearful, Sango couldn't resist and moved forward, reaching out to him. "It _can not_ exist in you without that sword, Miroku. Trust me. The demon is dead and gone."

Miroku's wide eyes had gone towards her outstretched hand and not left it. He leaned back as if her touch was poison, staring at her hand like it might grow a mouth and bite at him, and Sango swallowed, remaining frozen in her pose.

 _He's not afraid of you, Sango. He's afraid of himself. Let him see there's nothing to fear. Let him accept that first._

"Miroku," she tried gently, still without moving an inch. "You're injured. Can I look at your shoulder?"

For, only now that the demon had relinquished his hold on Miroku had bruises started to form, and she could glimpse a particularly vicious one under his collar. It looked like his shoulder was dislocated- had to have been from Hiraikotsu.

He blinked once, seeming completely taken aback. His startled gaze went towards his wounded shoulder as if he honestly hadn't realized he'd been hurt, then back towards hers without missing a beat. "It- it's fine," he stammered.

She already knew that. But it was an excuse to get closer to him, and an excuse was all she needed. "Humor me?"

She waited several seconds for a response that was not forthcoming. then risked moving forward a little. He didn't withdraw, even if his terrified gaze was still fixated on her hand and, taking that as acceptance, Sango crossed the rest of the distance between them to sit by his side. She carefully started to work on his shoulder, folding his robes back while he sat uncomfortably still and tense, not moving even an inch.

"I hurt you, too," he mumbled at one point, head still down. "Are you... are you in pain?"

She opened her mouth to give him the reflexive response of _no, not at all,_ then stopped herself. Miroku would know that was a lie, and to tell it would surely make him feel even worse. "...It stings a little," she managed, keeping her eyes on his wound. "If you want to, you can look at it after I finish.'

Miroku flinched and said nothing, as if wary, and Sango sighed. An easy ninety percent of the time that he touched her it was returned with a slap; it figured that now, she was asking him to touch her- perhaps not the way he so usually wanted to- but he shrunk back, wary. She sighed, still examining his shoulder. It couldn't be helped.

"I need to push it back into place," she murmured, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Okay?"

He blinked again and nodded, not apprehensive at all, still seeming rather in shock. Sango worked swiftly and bluntly; the when the moment of most pain came, the monk grunted, but barely even twitched. She'd seen men scream at that.

Miroku, being Miroku, normally would've taken such an occasion to do a terrible job at trying to appear hurt, bemoaning his injuries to try and cop a feel, or get some sort of sympathy out of here. Now, he barely responded at all.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, untying her cloth belt and fashioning it into a sling, as Kagome had left with all the bandages. His bruised shoulder was bloody, too, with claw marks from when Inuyasha had fought him in a struggle that felt like a lifetime ago. But, those wounds were minor, and would heal without her intervention. Miroku winced occasionally but it seemed like he wasn't even fully aware of it; the monk had gradually relaxed the longer she simply sat by his side and hell did not break loose, until he just sat there numbly, staring blindly towards the ground. Sango bit her lip, weighing her options, then looked away towards his shoulder again, trying to not put pressure on him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Miroku shook his head slowly, eyes still on the ground. He looked lost in his own thoughts, barely aware of her presence at all, and when he spoke, it was in a shaky monotone. "...Everything. I can't... I can't process it. I wasn't... I wasn't aware, the whole time the Tessou was- in me. At least, I don't think I was. Last thing I remembered was taking that sword from the traveler and then suddenly I was inside with you, and then everything he- it- did... everything I did... it just came back. Sango, there's so... so much..."

Her concern rose. He thought he hadn't been aware the entire time he was possessed? He most definitely had. He'd fought back against the Tessou... held him still long enough for her to shatter the blade. Did he truly not remember?

There were a lot of unanswered questions, more seeming to crop up the longer that they talked; she'd have to wait until later to resolve them. She finished tying off the knot to make the sling; he flinched again and she stopped, hands shaking. "Sorry."

 _I'm sorry, Miroku._

Her hands continued to shake, and she found herself looking away from the bloody shoulder and instead across his chest. He was dreadfully pale and still shaking, but _warm_ again, the cold of the Tessou sent away along with its spirit, and in that moment, that simple fact sent her into a state of relief so intense she could barely breathe.

Miroku was alive. They'd saved him.

It was over.

"Mi... Miroku..." she gasped, hands curling around his shoulders in a desperate wish to just touch him. " _Miroku."_

"Sa- Sango? You-"

" _Miroku!"_

And she collapsed over the monk, arms winding tight around his shoulders and bringing him to the ground. He gave a surprised grunt and stiffened again, clearly uncomfortable with the contact and began squirming to get away, but at that moment she just couldn't stop her needs from eclipsing his.

She needed to touch him. She needed to _know_ he was here with her, _Miroku_ and not the monk's possessed shell, that this wasn't a dream and that he wouldn't be snatched away out of her grasp the way Kohaku was _every time_ she got near him.

That feeling whenever she saw Kagura spiriting him away...

It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.

"Please, Miroku," she choked out, and just couldn't stop herself from hugging him tighter. "Please. Stay." _Kohaku can't stay. He can't ever stay. Please, god, Miroku, stay with me._

"Sa- Sango..."

"I know you're scared," she choked out. "I don't blame you; I probably would be, too. But just trust me and stay here with me. Don't ever leave."

* * *

Miroku stared down at Sango, speechless. The demon slayer's eyes were shut tight, but tears still streamed down her cheeks- tears he had only ever seen her shed for her dear brother. He remained frozen, entirely takenaback and with no idea how to react. He very tentatively raised an arm to return her embrace; it took all his self control to not flinch away- but she was more important than his fear.

Even if the last time he had touched her, it had been to hurt her.

"Sango, don't worry," he promised hollowly, promised because that was his only choice here. "I'm staying."

 _But how can I... after these hands..._

His words signaled a breakdown. The promise, no matter how false or empty it was, led to Sango's head burying into his good shoulder, her arms still shaking, entire body trembling with the force of relieved sobs. "Houshi-sama," she whispered, her head sagging forward even more.

It was only then that he realized just how cold she was- and he remembered that all of the blood on him was not him. "Sango, you need to lie down," he said urgently, shifting his grip on her- and growing even more alarmed when she didn't respond in the slightest. "Sango?! Sango!"

Her head fell against her shoulder, long hair slipping from her face to her back- revealing the fact that she was unconscious.

His heart stopped.

"Sango!" Miroku cried, pulling her back tightly to his chest and pressing an ear against her. Her heart was beating, and she was breathing- all that remained was the white cast to her face, the coldness emanating from her entire form that chilled him to the bone. He settled her back in his arms and looked over her in terror, searching for anything that could be the cause of her sudden departure from consciousness.

It didn't take long for his hands to find the tear in her uniform, and beneath that, the black blood that seeped out to drip onto his fingers. He swallowed, fingers wandering unsurely over the deep wound, jerking back every time Sango flinched in unconscious pain.

"Sango..." he murmured in horror, touching her chest one last time before he finally withdrew, shaking. "Kirara" he called, barely able to turn his head away from Sango to look back to the still waiting demon cat. "Go-..."

Miroku stopped short at the look in Kirara's eyes.

The cat was glaring at him in outright suspicion, pulling back on her haunches, hair on end and ears twitching. She was growling low in her throat, and her red eyes watched him in clear and chilling animosity so strong it shocked him. There was an outright threat in that stare, an unsaid warning that if he so much as touched Sango the wrong way her teeth would be at his throat in a second. She was clearly on the defensive, ready to protect her master.

From him.

He shuddered.

"...K- Kirara," he managed weakly, forcing his voice to stay calm- well aware that she could tear him apart if she gauged him to be a serious threat. "What's wrong? It's only me."

Kirara growled at him again, her eyes flicking between her master and him in severe distrust, a look that sent a chill shuddering down his spine and led to him pushing himself back, carefully disentangling Sango from his arms. "Kirara, Sango's injured! She needs help!" he tried, but she only continued to glare at him, growl growing. Kirara had never looked at him like that before. And, not that he could particularly blame her, if she had witnessed the Tessou's rampage through him- but she hadn't. What was going on?

He had no way to answer that question now, so Miroku just had to sit there, trying to get Kirara to trust him. The cat eyed him up and down with a still furious glare, ears and tail twitching back and forth in what could only be defined as suspicion. A ferocious snarl abruptly ripped out of her throat in one furious bark that made him flinch back in shock- the move, clearly done as a warning. Kirara, satisfied at last, gave him one final glare before turning her back, bounding towards the sky in search of Inuyasha.

He stared after Kirara, watching her disappear over the forest- still shaking. When the demon cat at last vanished, he gave himself a moment to just breathe, struggling to shake off the unease Kirara had left him with, then forced himself to return his attention to Sango. Clearly, there was something wrong with Kirara- but there was nothing he could do about that now. And, quite frankly, after everything that had happened- Kirara's sudden fixation on him, now that it was no longer an immediate threat, was the last thing on his mind.

There were far more terrible things that drew his focus now.

Sango lay spreadeagled on the grass, far too pale and far too limp, and Miroku crawled back to sit by her side. Her eyes remained shut, blood smeared across one cheek, and he gently took her into his arms again, allowing her head to sag back against his arm.

How could he have been such a fool?! He remembered the fight- he remembered it all. Remembered every agonizing moment of it. He _remembered_ everything he had done to her- why had he allowed the fact that he had _stabbed_ her to slip his mind?! She'd been injured, and he had entirely ignored it!

"God, Sango, forgive me," he murmured, lifting her up just enough so he could bury his face in her hair.

He could almost feel how it had felt, driving that blade into his beloved's chest.

 _The deadly swift flash of a blade- the rise of blood- the disgusting crunch of bone..._

 _Sango's fierce gaze not wavering even once..._

" _Claim my life if you so wish it, demon," she snarled, and armed with nothing more than her two hands she stepped forward, driving the sword even deeper into her ribcage. "But you will never have Houshi-sama."_

 _Her hands gripped the blade and pulled it in further still, and never once did Miroku see pain._

" _If I die, then I'll take you with me_!"

Miroku just couldn't stop himself- he threw Sango back away from him and he _screamed._ His hands flew up to cover his face, horror and self-disgust taking over him entirely until he wanted to just start running and never stop.

 _I did that... I stabbed Sango. With these two hands... Sango almost..._

He screamed again, curling over on himself and trying not to throw up. His hands were heavy with blood and his soul, tainted forever with the innocent lives that had been taken. Those countless villagers who had so mistakenly wandered across his unmerciful and devastating hands... _Sango..._

It took Miroku's voice going hoarse and his throat, sore, for him to realize he was still screaming.

 _So much blood._

So much...

And Sango was still...

His heart in his throat, Miroku forced himself to crawl towards her again, the weakness and horror that tried to encompass him purposefully held off until a time when they would be acceptable.

"My dear Sango, please, wait for me," he whispered. No matter the pain in his chest, no matter the weight on his heart, he gently grasped the demon slayer by the wrists and, using all the strength he had, lifted her up onto his back. "Forgive me for touching you without your permission, Sango, or at least when you do not possess the recourse of punishing me for such transgressions. I realize I may have given up all rights to touch you like this when I allowed Tessou to... against you..." He shuddered, unable to go on. "But I shall deliver you to safety, no matter what it takes."

And, one step at a time, he carried her from the clearing.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for reviewing! I'm not receiving any email notifications about any non-anonymous ones for some reason, though :( Just saw I'd missed all registered users' reviews somehow. Sorry about that!

* * *

The demon slayer and monk's arrival at the decimated village very unfortunately coincided with the grouping together of the survivors, those who had escaped the Tessou's rampage while still possessing Miroku. Every single one of them was crying for the monk's head. It would've been child's play for Inuyasha to incapacitate all who sought Miroku's life, and for a moment there, he'd definitely wanted to- but Kagome had convinced him otherwise.

Sango needed medical attention and, whether he'd admit it or not, Miroku did, too. Staying to convince upset and scared villagers that the monk now drifting in and out of consciousness had truly had no hand in the devastation that had been visited upon them would take time he didn't care to waste.

They'd left instead.

Sights set on Kaede's village, Kirara flew with Kagome astride her back, treating Sango as best she could while still in the air. Miroku, for a change, slumped across Inuyasha's back, dazed and confused; the pained moans that he heard only spurred him on to go faster.

At one point, scowling, Inuyasha reached back to grab the arm that wasn't wrapped around his neck, leaving it perilously easy for the monk to fall off, and pulled it securely and none too gently back into position. Miroku flinched, and Inuyasha growled at him.

"My shoulder's fine. So don't worry about hurting me."

"Inuyasha, you- I stabbed you..."

"Look, the only thing that'll hurt me is if you fall off and Kagome _osuwaris_ me to hell and back for it. So hang on." Then, smirking, he glanced over his shoulder at the still uncertain monk. "It may've been a demon that swung that sword, but your will stopped him from cutting all the way. Besides, it'll be a cold day in hell before you, possessed or not, can beat me in a fight."

Then he turned back towards the path- but his smile faded.

There'd been no light in Miroku's eyes. He was hiding the distress and guilt well, no longer the distraught and screaming creature he'd stumbled upon running as if his life depended on it- but it was still there. Hidden behind the darkness in his eyes, Miroku was still just as devastated as when Inuyasha had found him and trapped him on the ground.

His heart pounding, Inuyasha pushed himself to run faster.

* * *

By the time they reached Kaede's, Sango was still unconscious, and they took her immediately to the shrine maiden's home, her wounds beyond Kagome's skills. Miroku had just stood there, seeming torn between sitting by her side to never leave and running to never come back, so Inuyasha had just plopped him down on the ground with one particularly hard punch to the shoulder, keeping him in place.

Healing was most definitely not his forte; even if they tended to divide their group gender wise whenever they were in need of care after a particularly vicious battle, that was always for Miroku's sake. Neither of the girls would allow him to tend to any injury of theirs, and after Miroku had groped Sango only seconds after regaining consciousness from poison, the girls refused to tend to him as well. Inuyasha, most often, had no part in it, either needing the care or giving it.

Thankfully, Kagome took notice before it could become to apparent he was flying blind and quickly came over to his side, standing with her hands on her hips, her eyes searching. "Miroku-sama!" she chastised, dropping to her knees beside him. "You're hurt! Why did you run off earlier? You should've waited for one of us to come! Hold still; let met take care of this." She began to set to work almost immediately, then paused, her eyes narrowing in a glare. "Inuyasha, if you see him trying to do anything- anything _lecherous_ , you have my permission to hit him. ...Gently."

"K- Kagome-sama..."

Inuyasha grinned, cracking his knuckles, and at last Kagome set to work.

Either still too much in shock to resist or, the threat of a bone-shattering punch enough to hold him still, Miroku did not try to grope her. His attention seemed focus elsewhere anyway, constantly darting towards Kaede and Sango, leaving Inuyasha with little to do but observe and frown.

Miroku was twitchy the way only humans could be, not terribly injured but definitely bad off, and Sango looked positively awful. The taijiya looked lucky to be alive and he scowled, remembering how heavily she had reeked of blood when he'd first come across her. He should've insisted on taking her with him.

Kagome's usual bravado seemed to be fading the longer she spent with Miroku. She'd only seem the effects of his possession, he realized belatedly- she'd seen his previously injured shoulder, and the nauseating massacre at the village, and now, Sango's injuries, but she had barely seen him when he was actually possessed. She was only now starting to grasp that all was not well and good despite the fact that the demon was dead, and she was adjusting accordingly.

"You were hit with Hiraikotsu, right?" she asked gently, swiftly untying Sango's cloth belt from around his shoulder to replace it with an actual sling. When Miroku did not even look at her, never mind respond, she glanced to Inuyasha for confirmation. He nodded, and Kagome sighed, looking towards the monk again. "When Sango-chan was hit with that, she had broken ribs, I think, but that was about it. Sorry, Miroku-sama, there's not much we can do for that, even in my time." She paused again, a slight flush touching her cheeks as she reached forward, hand hesitating in mid air. "I, uh... I think you're supposed to check for internal bleeding or- or something..." She flushed even more brilliantly, hand still hovering near his chest. "I... if you promise to be good then I... um..."

At last, that drew a slight chuckle out of Miroku, even if his still distant eyes remained distracted by Sango. "Kagome-sama, I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I must decline, lest I be unable to control myself. By the way Inuyasha is looking at me, I think I might not survive his punishment if my hand should stray."

Inuyasha started, remembering his role as Miroku's possessed hand's supervisor, and Kagome scowled at him, still blushing brilliantly. "Inuyasha, stop looking so murderous! You're scaring him!"

"Keh!" he sat back, scowl deepening, and glared between the two of them. "He's not scared. He just wants your sympathy."

"Oh, Inuyasha," Miroku sighed, holding a hand to his heart in mock injury, "you wound me so. Such distrust..."

It was Kagome's turn to glower, and she smacked him over the back of the head without pause. "Quit milking it, you lecher."

Miroku wilted before her threatening glare and Inuyasha sighed, leaning back against the wall again. The moment passed, Kagome instead looked at Miroku's scratched and burned wrist, the only other visible injury, and began to pull some bandages out of her pack. The monk's gaze had again gone towards Sango, even if most of his view was obscured by Kaede, but even with his attention diverted he held up a hand to stop her.

"Ah, if you don't mind, Kagome-sama, I will take care of that." He lowered his still bleeding arm without touching her- or looking away from Sango. "It's safer, you see. If you move the prayer beads incorrectly, then you could unseal my Kazanna."

There was a short pause- Miroku's eyes, still across the room.

At last, Kagome cleared her throat and reached to poke him in the shoulder. "That makes sense, Miroku-sama, but if you're going to say that then you should _actually_ treat the wound."

He still seemed distracted in every way possible, but her prodding him got him to start slightly, then accept the proffered gauze. "Uh... right. Of course, Kagome-sama."

Inuyasha let the two humans sort out their problems for themselves, leaning back to rest against the wall. He sniffed the air, winced at the overpowering scent of blood, and quickly covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve, shaking his head in distaste. Humans bled far too easily. It was any wonder Miroku and Sango had both survived; any one of the wounds he usually took in a fight against a fellow demon would be fatal for any human. The demon that had taken Miroku must not have been trying very hard to kill Sango, he realized, glancing first at the taijya's prone form, then to Miroku, whose only additional injury after the Hiraikotsu blow Inuyasha had witnessed was a cut on his wrist. If the demon in Miroku had been fighting seriously, he would've killed Sango in an instant. Not wasted time with the painful but ultimately non fatal injuries on her now; would've stabbed her through the heart and moved on.

Of course, if his goal had simply been to kill Sango, he wouldn't have taken her at all. Would've cut her neck the moment he had passed out.

He scowled again, thinking of the nervous, twitchy way the monk had been for hours, and then even further back, how he'd had to physically bring him down to stop him from running away. He hadn't even appeared aware of any outside presence.

He glanced between the two humans again, then, sighing, shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

Something had gone on when the two were alone. He didn't think he really wanted to know what it was, either.

* * *

It was late into the night when Kaede at last finished bandaging and treating the unconscious demon slayer. Miroku had watched all the while, supporting himself against the wall and forcing his eyes open every time he started to fall asleep, watching every moment of the painstaking process the shrine maiden had gone through to keep Sango alive. He had already memorized her injuries, mentally catalogued every single one, relived the memory of being the one to inflict them- watching Kaede work over her was nothing except for agonizing.

And yet, he could not tear his eyes away.

He could tell Inuyasha and Kagome were worried. In another time, he might've tried to appease their concern, but tonight...

He just couldn't.

When Kaede at last stood, clearly exhausted, Miroku made to follow her, only to stagger, leading to Inuyasha catching him, Kagome flailing in concern, and Kaede shaking her head at him, poking at his shoulder with her bow to push him down. "Young ones nowadays," she muttered at him, clearly displeased. "You shouldn't be trying to stand, houshi."

If she was trying to chastise him, it didn't work; he barely even registered the complainant, leaning around her without pause and straining to see anything more of Sango than simply her blanket covered silhouette. "Sango..." he murmured, the longing he felt so strong it almost hurt. "Is she...?"

Kaede heaved a heavy sigh, dropping to her knees across from him and placing her hands on his shoulders, all but forcing him to lie down. "Relax, houshi. Inuyasha, Kagome- your friend will be fine." The shrine maiden looked between them all, features still strained with exhaustion. "Her wounds are severe, but whatever demon she fought against- his intention was pain, not death. Sadistic creatures, some youkai are." She shook her head mournfully. "Inuyasha, I know how hard you drive your friends, but you'd be good to remember they are not built like you. She will not be ready to set off with you again for another several weeks, and if I catch you trying to move her sooner than she's ready, I can promise you that Kagome will deliver my retribution for me. Right, Kagome?" She smiled mischievously at the schoolgirl, who returned it in kind, leaving Inuyasha to groan at the both of them and slink down farther against the wall.

"Keh! Threaten your _osuwari_ all you like, Kaede-obaa. I know these guys are human. Whatever; Kagome and I will just get a jewel shard or two while they recover. Or five."

Kagome frowned at him, evidently annoyed by his lack of concern. "Inuyasha! We should stay with them! I can get them more medicine from my time- and we shouldn't just leave them alone!"

Inuyasha shrugged, picking at his claws. "So, what, we'll sit here and watch em sleep for three weeks? Besides, they won't be alone. Shippo'll stay."

The kitsune aroused from his worried position by Sango's head, looking up towards Inuyasha in alarm. "What?! Me?! _Alone?!"_

Kaede laughed again, rising to her feet, this time taking the clothed bundle that was the sword that had began this all. Miroku couldn't help himself from looking at the lump in her arms, nor could he suppress a shiver.

 _If only I had not grabbed it so rashly..._

"Come, Kagome," the shrine maiden said, beckoning. "We must purify this posthaste, and ensure it is properly sealed. It has an evil aura, and I fear it will attract demons if we do nothing."

The schoolgirl jumped, looking almost startled, then quickly nodded and got to her feet, turning after the shrine maiden. "Yes, Kaede-sama! Miroku-sama, feel better!" With a cheerful wave, she jogged outside, trailing after Kaede- at last, allowing silence to fall across the home.

Left with no further distractions, Miroku immediately looked again towards Sango.

The taijiya lay limply beneath the heavy, woolen blanket, head turned to the side, mouth slack. Her brow was creased in pain, even unconscious, her skin, terribly ashen even in the faint light, white as snow against the darkness that made him shiver. He could glimpse a sling holding the arm the Tessou had taken particular pleasure in slicing up, and then, in the still hand that slipped out from underneath the blanket, a thick wind of gauze where she had gripped the blade and hadn't let go.

Her long hair, freed from its ponytail now, scattered across her shoulder and cheek in a loose cascade, beautiful strands obscuring parts of her face from view. The sight of it gave Miroku pause and, slowly, he reached back to tie up his own hair.

He loved Sango's hair. It told so much about her. Tied up she was alert and focused; tied up her Hiraikotsu was in hand and she was ready to fight. Left down she was relaxed. Left down she was calm. Left down he could, if he was careful enough, run his fingers through it, feeling the soft strands and losing his fingers in the sea of dark calm.

His fingers twitched.

 _The Tessou had his fingers in Sango's hair. He curled them around a section and pulled slightly, turning her unconscious face towards his. The hand moved into a fist while his other reached up, first landing on her neck, then trailing on downwards towards her breast, squeezing gently while Sango moaned in unconscious pain._

 _Screaming did nothing to stop him. His screams were heard only by himself; his frustration and his agony, wasted on a deaf demon and a deaf world._

Shutting his eyes and shaking, Miroku looked away.

"Oi."

Inuyasha's quiet, sedate probe made him flinch again, and keep his eyes on the floor.

"Something's off with you." There was a pause, the hanyou shifting slightly, head tilted to the side. "...What happened when the Tessou was alone with Sango?"

Miroku stiffened.

When he didn't reply, Inuyasha moved forward, staring at him inquisitively. "He took her for a reason. Like Kaede-obaa said, he didn't just want to kill her. And by the way you're reacting, I'm guessing he got pretty far along in whatever it is that he wanted to do."

 _Hands... hands that were his, hands that he couldn't stop... all_ over _her..._

Nausea rising, Miroku kept his eyes firmly trained away from the hanyou, self disgust finding him again. "Nothing happened, Inuyasha," he muttered, hopefully with an air of finality, and at last lay down, his back to the hanyou, and shut his eyes.

Even if sleep felt like it would never come easily again.

 _Sango..._

* * *

When Sango woke up, it was to nothing but pain.

She gasped into consciousness, staring in a haze at the flickering shadows of firelight above her. Her first priority was instantly to recognize that she was unwell. She wasn't able to fight back. She was, by default, _in danger,_ unless Inuyasha or another of similar ability and loyalties was there with her.

She wished for her katana, even if she was in absolutely no condition to use it.

Her eyes roved wildly, alarmed, until they latched directly on to the shadow figured by her side. And when she processed that it _wasn't_ , in fact, Inuyasha, but the slumped figure of Miroku- she couldn't help it.

She flinched in absolute terror.

Last time she'd woken up with him by her side, his hands, had been on her...

Both their reactions were instantaneous and brief as a splitsecond. Her terror, and Miroku's reaction to her terror.

So quick she barely saw it at all, but she _knew_ him, and in the space of a heart beat, she saw nothing but utter heartbreak.

"Don't- don't worry, Sango." The monk moved back a few inches slowly, painfully, but still knelt at her side, his head bowed. "It's really me. Remember? The Tessou is... is gone."

His resigned expression made her feel even worse, and, weakly, Sango reached out with one still bandaged hand, moving to grasp his palm firmly. She felt him wince and squirm for a half beat before he accepted it, clearly still uncomfortable but no longer straining to pull away. "Sorry, Houshi-sama," she whispered, voice hoarse.

Miroku looked away bitterly, shaking his head. "Sorry for what?"

He looked so miserable. She wished she had the strength to reassure him; as it was, she could only squeeze his hand, and even that motion was minute, her own palm still wounded and sore. "Don't look so sad on my account. Please."

Rather than listen to her, the monk simply sat there for a moment, eyes still down, then pulled away, going towards the pitcher by her side. "We are at Kaede-sama's home," he murmured, stiff and unfeeling. "She says you'll make a full recovery, just that you should rest for a few weeks."

Sango managed a slight nod, still watching the monk as he struggled to have a steady enough hand to pour water. He looked terrible, she noted, glancing at the shadows under his eyes and the thick blanket draped around limp shoulders- but, he did look like Miroku again. His hair tied up, his eyes- if tired and nervous- still not a solid black abyss of unfeeling cruelty. The monk at last set out a glass of water and turned back towards her, his gaze going towards hers nervously. "If you're, ah, thirsty... um..."

Sango looked at him sadly, her heart falling. She knew what his awkwardness stemmed from. Like it or not, she didn't have the strength to sit up on her own right now; Miroku would have to help her. Helping her meant touching her.

Once upon a time, she simply would've been forced to resign herself to the fact that it meant a hand straying towards her ass, and he would've had to resign himself to the fact that it meant he'd be slapped.

Now, him groping her wasn't even a question. He wouldn't so much as look at her without her permission.

And, she knew why.

"I- I'm fine," she mumbled, finding herself unwilling to confront this just now. The monk nodded slightly and sat back, trying to pull his hand from hers, still clearly not very willing to touch her right now. Sango clung on stubbornly and, at that, he didn't seem to have the heart to pull away.

"Where are Kagome and Inuyasha?" she asked at length, just searching for something to say to break the tense quiet. She glanced tiredly around the room and saw signs that the others had been present, but weren't any longer.

Miroku shrugged slightly. "Sacred Jewel shard hunting. Kagome tried to talk him out of it but he was getting antsy, I think. It's only been two days since we arrived, but they should be back tonight." He paused again, seeming unsure. "They're also sidetracking a bit- picking up my staff. I think it was the last thing on any of our minds..."

Sango blinked, only now remembering how Miroku's foot had come down to neatly splinter the sacred staff in two. She'd left it in a shallow grave, thinking it was unsalvageable- and, also, having much graver worries on mind than an inanimate object, precious item of Miroku's or not. "Can it be fixed?" she asked hopefully, and the monk blinked, then shrugged again.

"Ah, I don't know. I never saw how badly it was broken."

She frowned slightly, brow furrowing in confusion. "Then..."

Miroku sat back against the wall in the flickering firelight, his gaze distant. "It was my father's, Sango. That and..." He held up his cursed, sealed hand; the prayer beads clinked and glinted. "These are our family's own heirlooms."

She stared at him, eyes wide. She instantly regretted asking and pulled on his hand again, trying to get him to at least look at her. "Houshi-sama, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Oh, it's all right, Sango." He smiled at last, at least something to remind her of the easy going monk she was so accustomed to. "You couldn't possibly have known. Besides, I'm a Buddhist monk. Material possessions should hold no worth to me, sentimental value or not." He did his best to assume a wise and thoughtful pose, and she had to stifle a laugh. "Although, holding true to a monk's values is something I've never been particularly good at..."

"I'll say," she quipped back, and the monk heaved a crestfallen sigh before lapsing into silence.

Their conversation, his demeanor- it had at last found a bit of the normalcy that they so often shared, and Sango sighed in contentment. Miroku's hand felt heavy in hers, at last the faint tremors stilling as he became more used to touching her again, and even if there were still a million and one things left unsaid between them it didn't matter. They were all things she could tackle later. She didn't want to concern herself with them now.

Now, she just wanted this. Him.

"You don't look well," she said softly at length, eyes still closed. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

She heard Miroku shift beside her, leaning against the wall in fatigue, even as he sighed quietly. "Don't worry about me. Just focus on getting better."

She sighed. She couldn't say she wouldn't have given that sort of reply, had their positions been switched- but she was in simply no mood to tolerate that. "Just answer the question, Houshi-sama," she snapped at him, and he sighed in defeat.

"I was hit by Hiraikotsu," he muttered, clearly reluctantly. "As I'm sure you know, it packs quite a punch. ...But I'm really fine, Sango. Compared to... compared to what I did to you..." He trailed off into an intensely apologetic silence and Sango simply squeezed his hand, keeping her eyes closed.

"You did nothing to me, Houshi-sama," she said matter of factly. "Tessou was responsible for it all. ...Houshi-sama?"

"Yes, Sango?"

She opened her eyes at last, turning her head again to look at the monk. Simply at her just calling his name, he had moved off the wall to knee urgently by her head again. Even if he looked, to her, like he had no business doing anything except perhaps lying down, the ever so slightly desperate look on his face said he had different ideas. She was sure that, no matter what she'd asked him for, he'd do his very best to deliver... wanting to do something, anything, for her now, when he hadn't been able to before.

She sighed again.

"I'm glad you're all right, Houshi-sama," she murmured, fingers curling tighter around his warm ones once again.

He started, looking takenaback. The innocent surprise on his face made her smile again, until at last Miroku just nodded back, his own features slipping at last into a smile as well. A small one, perhaps, but it was genuine, and it made the leaden weight of sadness on her heat ease.

"For that, Sango, I have only you to thank." He paused, looking away for a moment, then frowned. "In- in all sincerity- thank you, Sango. I- realize that it would have been easier for you all to simply have not bothered... Inuyasha's _kaze no kizu_ would've taken care of the demon quite handily. Or even just one of Kagome's sacred arrows. It would've saved you all a lot of troub-"

"Houshi-sama?"

"...Yes, Sango?"

She grimaced, brow furrowing in annoyance. "Do you want me to slap you?"

Even with her eyes shut, she could feel the nervous stiffening by her side, and she waited through the silence, fully prepared to follow through on her threat if he insisted on pressing the point. "I- I..." he stammered weakly, then sidled an inch or two away from her. "Not particularly, no..."

"Then, shut up."

She felt him relax in degrees after that, the monk gradually accepting what that he could and agreeing to disagree on what he could not. She hoped it was easy enough for him to at the very least accept they would have _never_ killed him to get to the demon, regardless of the cost, even if he would still perhaps tell them they should've done otherwise. If she couldn't bear to give up her brother, then why would he ever think she would be able to turn her back on him?

But, of course... even if he could accept they never would've let the Tessou have him- that didn't mean he still wouldn't feel terrible for what the Tessou had done with him.

She couldn't say she wouldn't feel the same way.

For now, though, such things weren't something to be discussed or worried over. She doubted Miroku was in any sort of state for such a conversation, but whether he was or not, she definitely wasn't. She knew she couldn't take anything difficult or painful like that with him right now. They had fought hard to get out of this whole- and right now, that was what she would focus on. She would take this slice of peace and normalcy they had struggled so hard and she would cling to it.

Sango shifted her grip on Miroku's hand to be even tighter and sighed, feeling his heart beat in his warm wrist, the familiar feel of it comforting and reassuring like nothing else.

This peace, no matter how short it would be, was all they had now. And until the time came when they would have to deal with what the Tessou had done, this peace was all she would think about.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for reviewing! Contrary to what I said in chapter one, there will not be six chapters, but nine. I didn't expand anything; it's just my initial estimate was a little off. Also this will be a stand alone. No cliffhanger ending, no sequel. I'm sorry but writing multi chapters in college is far more difficult than I ever imagined it could be and what I'm producing is far from my best work, which means I'm not satisfied or very happy with it; until I graduate I'm definitely sticking to either oneshots or working on my novel. Welp, hope everyone enjoys the next few updates!

* * *

Miroku shut his eyes, tilted his head back, and released one long, exhausted exhale. It did nothing to relieve the tension still coiled in his shoulders. It did nothing to ease the hard weight of guilt inside him. It did nothing to calm his nerves or put his anxiety to rest. But, it was the last on the list of meditation strategies to try; release a breath and imagine all his troubles leaving with it, disappearing, no matter how briefly, into the night air.

That, too, did not work.

He grimaced, rubbing his temples and leaning his head back against the wooden wall of Kaede's home, gaze turned upwards to the overcast night sky. He had stayed with Sango until she had fallen asleep again; at that point, he'd found himself no longer able to stand the indescribable feelings of regret and self-disgust that claimed him when alone with her, and he'd dragged himself outside.

With Kagome and Inuyasha gone, and Shippo having taken to constantly running for medicine, water, and the like, Miroku had at last found himself alone, and with nothing to do but think.

He couldn't put a name, exactly, on why he felt as if he couldn't sit with Sango the way he had done so many times in the past, or she had done for him. But in there alone with her now, his skin crawled, he couldn't sit still, and he felt faintly sick. At least out here, he felt like he could think clearly.

"I still feel like I can't breathe, though," he murmured, rubbing his aching chest with one hand. Like every breath he took wasn't quite enough, as if there was some sort of weight hanging on him and every time he struggled to break for the surface, it stopped him. "Sango, is this how you feel, watching Kohaku? You've told me once that that's the worst you've ever felt in your life- watching him fly away. ...Well, this is the worst I've ever felt." Then he shook his head humorlessly, rolling his eyes at himself. "Though the situations are hardly comparable. You have to watch as your brother is forced to commit atrocities without any will or say in the matter. ...I'm the one who committed atrocities this time." _Against you._

He groaned to himself, stretching out against Kaede's home with a wince. Such stream of consciousness meanderings had no end and had begun almost from the moment that Sango had freed him. Surely they would drive him mad, if he let them.

"Maa, what a mess," he murmured to himself, closing his eyes. He tried to refocus his thoughts on the only problem he was faced with now that had a solution, rather than moping over what could not be solved- that was, finding some way to separate himself from both the situation and Sango. He was stuck here, with her, for _weeks,_ it seemed. When he'd weakly suggested that he accompany Kagome and Inuyasha on their search for Sacred Jewel shards in the meantime, it had been met by incredulous looks from everyone in the room, so, that was out. And that had been his only idea to get away from here. Now, he was left without any clue as to what to do; all he knew was that he and Sango needed to apart for a little while. For both of their sakes'.

Especially for her sake.

"Dear Sango," he whispered mournfully, and in his mind's eye a picture of her formed, just barely several feet away from him, peacefully asleep and beautiful. When she'd woken to see him there, she'd been afraid. There was no denying it. She'd woken, seen him, and her immediate instinct was fear.

"I can hardly blame her for that, now can I?" Miroku shook his head again, dismayed. _Sango_ had been _afraid_ of _him._ There was an impossible, uncrossable distance between them now that there had never been before, and he worried it might not be something that could ever be dismantled. Even from the beginning, when she had been merely the wounded taijiya taken advantage of by Naraku, there had not been this feeling of separation between them. To have become close, and then forcibly ripped apart like now- it was a feeling akin to no other, and definitely foreign to him. They had fought before, but this...

If this was something that could even be rectified, Miroku didn't see how him staying here next to her would help. She remained afraid of what he had done to her, and he couldn't even stand for her to touch him. His skin crawled when her soft hand found his; his entire body felt nervous and tense when her gaze landed on him... gods, what had happened to him? To go from being able to touch her so easily and without shame to now, not even being able to hold her hand when she was hurt...

 _What use am I to her now? All I do here is hurt her worse._

What had happened could not be erased, either from their memories or from reality itself. He had attacked her. He had forced himself on her. He had tried to kill her- and actually killed many others.

Miroku raised his hands in the moonlight, his gut churning. "I killed people," he whispered numbly, and in the darkness there, he could almost see black blood dried against his fingers and glove. "I... I killed those villagers. ... _I killed children."_

He bit his lip and turned his gaze away, clenching shaking hands tightly before he lost control entirely. He had tried, so hard, to stop the Tessou when he'd realized what he'd intended to do in that village. But he just hadn't been strong enough. He'd been held back, chained in his own mind, trapped in a cage to watch as the Tessou had slaughtered again and again, blood coating his sword with each and every blow until he'd felt drenched and drowning in it, unable to even breathe past the massacre.

He'd sat by and _watched_ as his own two hands had lain waste to innocent lives.

Miroku felt sick again.

As a monk, one of the essential elements of what he had been taught was that salvation was beyond no one. In the eyes of a true saint, even Naraku would be someone worth saving. Even the most despicable monster had a chance at redemption, if only they would seek it. He had been taught that. Redemption, salvation, forgiveness. The past was the past, and the future was the future; live in what he had today, accept whatever sins he had committed in the past and proceed to a better future. Even if those sins were standing by to let the Tessou take that village to the ground.

 _Even if, when Sango cried- it was because of me._

That hurt him almost more than the fate of those villagers'.

But salvation and forgiveness were all nice, big words to speak about- but, that was all they were. They were blessings to bestow upon others- and, concepts too abstract and distant, to accept himself. He remembered the saint at Mt. Hakurei and smiled mournfully, shaking his head again. The saint had lived his life preaching forgiveness and doing good, but when it came down to it, in the end, even he had been unable to accept and live and die according to what he taught.

"And I'm no saint," he murmured, spreading fingers that still, even now, felt bloody.

Right now, all he could accept was that him being here hurt Sango- and that, in turn, hurt him in ways he could not describe. Staying here right now was nothing more than the manifestation of a selfish desire to see her, and the way things were now, it would only cause more pain.

He needed to leave.

There was still a faint hope inside him, a hope that still sometime, in the abstract and distant future, there could be something in between him and Sango like they had once hoped. But sitting here now, Sango only a few feet behind him but feeling miles away, his heart stretched and torn in despair...

It felt like hope was the most he would ever find, now. He would be lucky if Sango agreed to still be friends with him. That was all he had any right to ask for.

At last, Miroku stood.

He glanced around the moonlit village in quiet speculation, thinking. His search revealed nothing- but, then, if his suspicions were correct, it wouldn't. He paused, narrowing his eyes, then folded his arms confidently and cleared his throat.

"Hachi."

 _I know you're here, you little rascal..._

Sure enough, it only took a few, very awkward, silent seconds before, in defeat, the tanuki's head poked out from a nearby bush. He had the grace to look properly abashed, at least, as he crawled out from his hiding spot, waddling his way through the leaves with his eyes downcast and mouth in a sad, guilty frown. "How'd you know I was here?" he mumbled, clearly put out that he had not gone unnoticed, and Miroku couldn't help but smile.

"Because you have a way of turning up whenever I get myself into trouble. Come on." He waved for the tanuki to join him at the top of the hill, squinting out into the dark village. "Inuyasha is set to return tonight, with my staff. When he does, we leave for Mushin-sama's temple."

Hachi frowned at him. "Mushin-sama? Is something wrong, Miroku-danna? I thought you'd be staying with Sango!"

Something wrong? Miroku barely stopped himself from a miserable chuckle. That was, perhaps, an exceedingly simple way of putting it. This was the wrongest things had ever been.

"...How much do you know?" he asked at length, rather than explain directly. "About what's happened?"

Hachi frowned at him, hesitating on the edge of the hill. Curious, dark eyes watched him uncertainly and Miroku sighed, looking away. His servant wasn't the brightest, but he wasn't an idiot, either. He could be observant when he needed to be, and it seemed he'd been observant enough while lurking in the bushes to figure out something was going on. Of course. The one time he could've done without his servant poking his nose into his business, here was Hachi, right on schedule...

Sure enough, when Hachi at last answered, the tanuki was unable to meet his eyes and dithered on his feet, uncertain and nervous. "N-not much, Miroku-danna. I only found you guys when the fights were over. ...But... something's wrong, right?" When Miroku didn't answer, Hachi rushed to continue and explain, staring at him urgently. "Even Inuyasha and Kagome looked worried when they left! And Inuyasha _never_ looks worried! And I've never seen you leave Sango's side when she's hurt! The- the reason you guys are hurt... it's not the usual, is it?" Hachi still stared at him, now expectantly, and Miroku had to struggle not to react outwardly.

With the mention of Sango, Miroku found himself fighting back another pang of longing. He shook his head at himself, keeping himself leaning against the home and not allowing himself to take even a single step back towards Kaede's home. "You're right, Hachi," he managed. "It's not... the usual, no. That's why we're leaving. Just... this time, don't mention that to Inuyasha." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Last time we went to Mushin-sama's temple without telling him, he ended up following me an hour behind. If I recall, because you told him where I was."

"And lucky I did, otherwise you would've been killed!"

Miroku coughed in annoyance, at both the reminder and the interruption. _"Anyway,_ I'd prefer it if he didn't follow this time. So, as long as you can keep your mouth shut this time, we'll be home free."

"Miroku-danna..."

Miroku waved off his servant's worries, trying to put off an air of confidence. "I can use my Kazanna now. If anything goes wrong, I'll be able to defend myself." He paused, looking out over the peaceful village again. "...I need to get away from here for a few weeks, Hachi. What I don't need is Inuyasha or Sango following me."

Silence at last fell, the pair with nothing left to do or say but wait for Inuyasha to return.

* * *

Getting onto Hachi, and the flight itself, was excruciating; Miroku didn't know how many ribs Hiraikotsu had broken but it was definitely enough that by the time Mushin's temple was in sight, it was a struggle to not regret the entire venture.

The two halves of his staff weighed heavily on his back, though, and the still uncomfortable feeling that had nestled in the pit of his stomach when Sango had just _looked_ at him, her gaze wet with all that remained unsaid and terrible between them, and he steeled himself again. He needed to be away from her for a while, and here, he thought, looking out over his childhood home, was the best place to be.

Hachi had flown him through the night, taking him to arrive at the old temple just as the sun rose. The tanuki landed with a muted thump on the grounds and Miroku released a satisfied sigh, reaching up to stretch before his sore chest protested and he grimaced, lowering his arms. "Thanks, Hachi!" he called casually, then scowled at the closed temple doors. Knowing Mushin, he most definitely was not awake at this hour. Probably still dead to the world in an alcohol induced slumber...

Shaking his head fondly, Miroku turned to gently lower himself off of Hachi. Even delicately inching himself to the ground, his chest flared in pain, and he had to bite back a groan. His staff clinked against his back and, sighing again, Miroku headed towards the temple.

It was always nostalgic, being here, and with Hachi still following at his heels, the feeling was even stronger. When the heavy snoring of a drunken old man reached his ears, the rose tinted glasses were definitely in place- although when Mushin came into sight, he did allow himself an aggravated groan.

Sprawled across the floor, sake jug half tipped on its side, no dignity or spirituality anywhere in sight...

"Yes, some things really never change," he murmured, shaking his head again.

He kicked a few times, nudging the old man into consciousness. "Oi, Mushin-sama! This is my welcoming party? _Oiiii!_ "

Mushin, being Mushin, still took a lot more work than that to wake, and when he at last did, the dazed and still tired greeting he got wasn't a _Miroku, what a surprise!_ or _long time, no see!_ or even so much as a _hello._ Because, after all, pleasantries were far beyond something that Mushin could care about at such an early hour.

"Miroku, boy, that you?" he grumbled, shielding his eyes against the morning sun. "Oh, and Hachi, too?" He rubbed his head sleepily, clearly still half dreaming, and frowned. "Last time you two showed up here, is what for me to stitch up that curse of yours. Don't tell me you've been reckless again!"

Sighing, Miroku knelt down back with Hachi, waiting for him to wake up enough to be of use. He silently unshouldered the bag containing two halves of his staff and laid them out on the floor, pausing to rub his thumb over the splintered end of the head. There were not sutras hidden inside his staff, as the Tessou had believed; instead it had been made directly from sacred wood, wood that he doubted it would be easy to come by. "Sorry, Chichiue," he murmured respectfully, lying the piece on the floor again. "I haven't gotten rid of your curse yet, but I've certainly managed to demolish our only other heirloom..."

That, at last, was enough to make Mushin perk up. "Mmm? What's this, now?" Rubbing his eyes again, he picked up one half of the staff, then the other, then shook his head in disappointment. "This? This _reeks_ of you being rash, Miroku! What were you thinking... breaking your father's staff like this..."

Miroku raised an eyebrow, looking Mushin up and down suspiciously. Flushed cheeks, unfocused eyes, slurred speech... "Mushin-sama, don't tell me you're still drunk from last night."

"P-perish the thought!"

He groaned. "Mushin-sama, you're going to die if you keep this up..."

Another drunken hiccup and a beaming grin. "We'll all die someday, my boy! Now, as for this thing here!" He waved the broken staff at him; Miroku leaned back in near alarm, avoiding the stick from putting his eye out. "I presume you came crawling along asking for me to fix this, now didn't you?"

"Ah, something like that..."

Mushin sighed again and began to look along the edge of the staff, fingering the edges where it had broken. "Hmm... it's doable, I think. Take me a few days, though. And it'll never be as strong as it was before; you good with that?"

Miroku nodded, unsurprised. "That's fine." His only other option had been Toutousai, but, if he took this to the demon craftsman, he'd be lucky to get a weapon back that he could even lift, never mind use. Demons made swords for demons. Humans like himself wouldn't be able to control such weaponry. And that was even if Toutousai agreed to help him; he'd been reluctant enough to help with Tetsusaiga, his prize creation. If he came running with a simple wooden staff, he'd probably be laughed out of the demon's cave.

Mushin looked around his staff for a few more moments, then frowned at him. "Where are your friends, anyway? Inuyasha and... um... those two pretty women?" he fumbled, clearly having forgotten their names, and Miroku groaned again, holding his face in his hands.

"Kagome-sama and- Sango," he grumbled sourly. "...And they're not coming. No reason for them to waste time here for a few days of weapon's repair, right?"

He heard Hachi cough uncomfortably behind him at the lie, and, scowling, Miroku resisted the urge to glare at him and instead smiled cheerfully. Not that Mushin was aware enough to pick on the uneasy current running through the room. The monk gave a disappointed sigh at his response, shaking his head. "Pity. I liked those two. Ah, well. Nothing to be done, I suppose." He dragged himself to his feet, yawning hugely, then pointed at Miroku with one half of his staff. "Fine, fine. I'll get to work. You, go and thoroughly purify your dirty self."

Miroku blinked in surprise. "...Mushin-sama, I'm not here for you to work on _me,_ you know-"

"Your point? I can smell your stink from across the room. Go on, boy, go!"

He stiffened. So, it had been days since he'd had a bath... and in those days, he covered himself in blood and sweat- not to mention he'd been possessed. Hell, the Tessou had somehow made him breathe out miasma. It wasn't his fault he hadn't been able to wash off the disgusting Tessou...

"Mushin-sama," he murmured, rubbing his still aching head. He'd been counting on sleeping once he'd gotten here. "I traveled all night to get here... I should-"

"Go, go, go," Mushin prodded impatiently, poking at his shoulder now with the staff, and, groaning, Miroku decided he had nothing to do but acquiesce.

 _Nothing like home sweet home..._

* * *

Miroku had _left._

 _Miroku_ had _LEFT._

In retrospect, it was probably a pretty good decision, considering that if he were here right now she'd slap him unconscious for this.

"Houshi-sama is _gone?!"_ she growled, fuming, and Inuyasha very wisely backed off. " _Why?!_ Did he tell you where he was going?!" If it weren't for Kagome she would've launched herself at him in rage; the schoolgirl was barely able to hold her on the mat as it was and Sango yanked her arm out of her grip, glare still fixated directly on Inuyasha.

The hanyou crouched behind Kagome, using her as a shield and eyeing her in no slight alarm. "Oi, don't look at me! All I know is that last night he said he was going to sleep outside, wanted fresh air, and Hachi was with him, and that this morning he and that tanuki were gone. Scents vanished, so Hachi must've flown him off. That's all I know, Sango!"

Sango would've curled her hands into fists if the cuts in her palms would've allowed her to. As it was she just crouched on the mat, breathing hard and so angry that was seeing red.

The monk had sat next to her side just the night before. He'd held her hand, he'd done everything she could've asked just by being there, he been the comfort she so desperately needed- then, without warning, he'd just _disappeared?!_

 _Without so much as a word, no less!_

"Inuyasha, you can go look for him, right?!" Kagome demanded, prompting the hanyou to stare at her in disbelief. The schoolgirl pushed on, regardless of the look she was getting from him. "For Sango-chan!"

Sango tried to move around her again, eyes already on the door. "For me? I'll go after him myself! _Stupid houshi-sama!_ What the hell does he think-"

"Sango-chan!" Kagome tried weakly, gently pushing at her shoulders, trying to calm her. "Come on, let Inuyasha look for him, you're still recovering!"

"Recovering?! I've had enough recovering!" She shook Kagome's hands off again in frustration and tried once more to stand. The pain was nothing but an afterthought to her now, set aside in place of rage. The fact that she hadn't stood on her own two feet in days was something else to be tossed aside and ignored; it wasn't until the dizziness and vertigo hit that she staggered and hit the wall for support, her stomach searing with pain, and found herself seeing stars.

She vaguely felt Kagome helping her to sit down again, arm around her shoulders, and heard the schoolgirl prod Inuyasha to go again. "Come on, Inuyasha! Neither one of them should be alone right now; you track down Miroku-sama, we'll stay with Sango-chan! The Sacred Jewel can wait!"

"What?! Um, not really, Kagome, unless Naraku decides to take a break too!"

Sango agreed with him wholeheartedly, not to mention bristled at the very idea of the entire group putting a hold on their fight more than they already had for their sake. She struggled upright and pushed weakly at Kagome's arm, trying to get her to move. "Inuyasha's right" she managed, blinking again. "I don't need anyone to stay with me- and you two, at least, should be looking for Naraku or the shards, if we can't."

Or, if she couldn't, and Miroku just- wasn't.

Inuyasha nodded firmly, the hanyou rising to his feet now that he had decided he was safe from her reaction. "She's right, Kagome. The Sacred Jewel's most important right now. Besides, Miroku's gone off on his own before, and he's got Hachi with him! He can take care of himself! Kagome, you need to stop caring so much about people!"

"Wh-what?!" the schoolgirl spluttered, whirling on the hanyou in disbelief. "Well excuse _me_ for being concerned! Because last time Miroku-sama went off on his own, he almost died and all, but I guess I should just be like you and not care! Maybe I shouldn't care about you then, let's see how you like that, Inuyasha!"

"H-hey!" Inuyasha glared at her, ears twitching in annoyance. "That isn't what I meant, you know what I meant! You always overreact, Kagome!"

Sango sighed, shaking her head. Some things never changed- and Inuyasha never learned.

"Over- over- _overreact?!"_ the schoolgirl screeched, cheeks flaming such a bright red Sango was almost concerned for her health.. " _You... INUYASHA, OSUWARI!"_


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for reviewing!

* * *

As things turned out, Inuyasha _would_ go looking for Miroku.

Possibly because Inuyasha might just be _osuwari'ed_ to death if he did not.

Also possibly because Kaede had insisted she not go anywhere except back inside. Not that that would've ever stopped her, but Kirara had taken _Kaede's_ side, growling protectively and shaking her head whenever Sango had even looked at her like she wanted to fly. Given Kaede, Kagome, and now even Kirara's conspiring to keep her back, she'd been forced to give up on pursuing Miroku herself, and just watch as Kagome and Inuyasha did it instead.

Sango saw them off, leaning against Kirara in the doorway of Kaede's home, blanket drawn around her shoulders and shivering in the early morning light. She watched the pair fade into the mist, Kagome having promised her they'd be back as soon as they found him- Inuyasha, muttering something about jewel shards and Naraku being very likely to intervene in that little plan, but just quiet enough to not draw Kagome's wrath.

And even when they had gone, she still sat outside, leaning against her beloved cat. The fresh air did her good, she supposed, after so many days of being bedridden and immobile; she'd been left restless, and it felt nice to be outside again. A reminder that there was a world outside the tiny private nightmare she'd shared with Miroku since the Tessou had come, and their, her experience, no matter how devastating, was only one small piece of their world.

Then, she frowned at herself. That didn't sound like her. The humbling big picture, the abstract and conceptual rather the concrete and proven? That didn't sound like her at all.

Sango sighed, rubbing her hand along along the back of Kirara's neck. "It's that Houshi-sama," she muttered. "He talks like this... rubbed off on me, I suppose. Ne, Kirara?"

Kirara meowed sadly, her big head nudging against her gently in silent companionship, and Sango sighed, scratching her again.

She curled against Kirara, still looking out over the village. The anger from before remained, but as a simmering fire now instead of a burning fury, and it made her uncomfortable rather than uncontrollable. To sit here restlessly, no way to work it off- she just did not like it. "I shouldn't be so angry in the first place," she muttered to herself, irritated. "I don't own him. He can leave if he so wants to. ...I wish he'd told me, said goodbye, and I'm worried, but... but he had no obligation to stay. After everything that's happened, I'm still concerned, of course... I know he's not handling- what happened- well. I'm not either. But if he doesn't want to be here then... then I guess have no right to make him stay."

It made sense, in her head.

Yes- perfectly logical.

And, entirely ineffective against the well of despair and anger still inside her.

Sango breathed out quietly, saddened again, and gave Kirara another gentle pat. She wanted him _here._ She didn't care how difficult and awkward it had become when they'd at last been alone together. She didn't care how complete and _raw_ their shared anguish grew when they had found themselves alone in that clearing by the village, and then in Kaede's home. She _wanted him here._

That pain felt infinitely preferable to the numb ache that gripped her now. The loneliness that didn't have a cure or even a treatment- sadness that was eased only by the presence of another.

In the days after Naraku had entered her life only to destroy it, the physical injuries had been terrible- but the worst pain of all had been loneliness. Waking up to see perhaps Inuyasha keeping watch in the corner, or Miroku mixing salves, always a presence of some kind but then unfamiliar ones- but never what she was used to. Never her father. Never Kohaku. Never her family.

And the worst pain then, her father being dead and she believing Kohaku was as well, had been the sheer loneliness. Knowing that they would never be there next to her again.

Sango sighed tremulously, curling closer to Kirara, drawing on her for comfort again. Somewhere along the way, Miroku and the others had become close enough to her to erase that feeling. Perhaps her family couldn't be by her side anymore, but people who cared about her could, and were. They, and hope that Kohaku could someday be hers once again, kept her going.

But that wasn't enough right now.

Because, this time, it wasn't a hurt that the rest of their group could understand.

This time, it was something that was strictly between her and Miroku- and something she _needed_ him there for.

Kirara mewed mournfully, as if she could feel her sadness emanating like an aura, and Sango forced a weak smile. "Maybe he just feels differently," she confessed to the dawn, stroking Kirara's back. "I need him here... maybe he needs to be away." She bit her lip then, looking down. The fact that she felt he shouldn't be alone right now- that now, more than _ever_ , was when he should have someone with him, shouldn't be relevant.

Kirara growled at that, bristling protectively, and Sango gave a genuine grin. "No, Kirara, don't. You don't need to hunt him down." She rubbed her back soothingly until the cat calmed, still looking distantly into the dawn.

The facts of it were simple, no matter how muddled and confused she felt.

Right now, she was hurt. Right now, she wanted Miroku here with her.

Right now, Miroku was hurt. And, evidently, right now, Miroku didn't want to be with her.

That was all that mattered.

She shut her eyes miserably, crestfallen.

She had no doubt she hadn't misevaluated the strength of their relationship- whatever their relationship was. Miroku hadn't been able to stop the Tessou in slaughtering those innocent villagers, he'd barely managed to delay him in fighting Inuyasha- but he'd achieved bringing the Tessou to a halt when he'd only been moments away from killing her? He cared for her. Greater than anyone else.

But, after what the Tessou had made him do...

Sango found herself covering her chest and shuddered in sheer revulsion, trembling in the face of the memory. The Tessou had breached a line Miroku had yet to cross. He had gone into territory that was foreign even to him... and Miroku, trapped but aware, had seen her in a state she didn't want to ever be seen by anyone. He'd s _een_ her achingly vulnerable, trapped and helpless, and she'd seen him, hands searching and wandering cruelly and violently. No matter who had been in control it'd been impossible for her not to see Miroku moving in, touching her, pushing her, fingers searching invasively, again that disgusting feeling, word, of _violation..._

Sango buried her head in Kirara's back, choking back a sob.

She wanted Miroku there. But now? Would he actually make her feel better? She looked at him and on some level she remembered what he'd been forced to do. But in her memories, it wasn't a black demon she saw crouched over her, it was _him._ And on that same level, being with him right now _hurt._ It just _hurt._

Even though she wanted him there- that didn't mean it was best. For either of them.

Perhaps it hurt him, as well.

She hugged Kirara closer, her heart breaking. She wanted Miroku there with her more than anything, but after what had happened between them- perhaps that closeness she so longed for simply no longer existed. Of course his possession and what the Tessou had done would make it harder- maybe it was just too difficult now. Too impossible to navigate through the emotional wounds and the aching hurts to find what they'd once had before.

Perhaps, this was how it ended.

This. This distant, painful as fire separation, the Tessou dead but his spirit still between them in a way that could never be changed. Miroku, unable to accept what he'd been made to do, to others and to her- and she, unable to forget Miroku's hands reaching, Miroku's eyes gleaming, Miroku's face contorted in a chilling cruelty as he clawed down her spine and felt her breast.

Perhaps this was it.

This time, Sango actually did sob.

Kirara crawled closer to her in instantaneous shared grief, rubbing her head warmly against her shoulder without even understanding what was wrong. Shaking hard, Sango fumbled herself onto her cat's back, locking an arm around her and burying her head in her fur, trying to block out the despair that was growing.

"Kirara," she gasped when she could speak, eyes still shut tight, "take me- take me-" Her frantic speech stopped abruptly without conclusion, mind racing to find or claim any place, anywhere at all, that would bring peace or at the very least isolation. Her thoughts hit the nearby lake nearby and she spoke without thinking, burying her head in Kirara's neck. "Take me to the waterfall near here!"

 _Take me away from here._

 _Take me to where I can be alone._

 _Take me to a place in which I can forget._

 _Forget... everything._

And Kirara, dutiful cat that she was, obeyed.

 _Miroku, if this is the end- if that is what you intended to say by leaving..._

She still loved him.

And, she believed he still loved her.

But the Tessou had taken them and moved them to a place where pain could eclipse even that.

* * *

Miroku sat calmly, cross-legged, in the sacred pool, head tilted back against the rocky cliffside. The hot water lapped up against his shoulders, and he gazed down into it, blinking tiredly. The wounds left by Hiraikotsu wavered on his torso as a bruised rainbow, black and red and purple and blue beaten as closer to a macabre painting than injuries- injuries that intrigued him more than anything else.

"The way this is going," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, "this _purifying myself_ is going to turn into me falling asleep here. ...Not that I'm much motivated to change that..."

He shifted slightly, distorting the watery vision of the long arc of bruises on his chest, and Miroku sighed painfully. He only very vaguely remembered receiving the wound at all. Then he'd still been very confused and alarmed- before the enormity of the situation had hit him and he'd understood what was happening, and he'd just had this hazy view of his body moving against his will, saying things he didn't understand, and himself, trapped behind bars and without choice or freedom.

Miroku forced another slow, meant to be calming breath that didn't accomplish its goal at all, and sank deeper into the scared water.

It stung, both on open wounds and on the remnants of miasma and blood still on him. He gritted his teeth, watching through narrowed eyes as the holy powers of the pool attacked the remains of possession that had lingered behind. There were likely vestiges of the Tessou still inside him now, he realized, and the spiritual power of the water attacked even there, leaving him feeling raw and exposed- and, yet... still unclean.

Miroku spread his fingers beneath the water, staring down at them through the hazy steam and shifting surface. There remained blackened dirt and blood dried under his fingernails and when he blinked, it wavered to become a dripping scarlet glove of suffering and torture.

His stomach turned, and Miroku very quickly found himself scratching at the blood that remained even underwater, even the sight of it nauseating and painful enough to necessitate it. The purifying power of the water still hurt, and now, it, too, felt necessary.

He didn't believe in gods. Buddhism _had_ no gods. But, now, he prayed.

 _Whatever gods that may exist, please, hear my words._

 _Release the souls I stole from life from torture and give them peace. Release my soul from its torment, and my body from the bounds of blood I drew. Release Sango from what torture she endured at my hands, and give her the peace that she deserves._

 _Release us all, gods, from what torment exists in mortal life, and give us all what little peace that mortals can attain._

The heat of purification rose around him, mist and steam with it until he felt lightheaded. Even then, Miroku remained nearly submerged, forcing his breaths to calm against the white pain growing in his chest.

"Release us all, gods," he whispered, "from what torment exists in mortal life, and give us all... what little peace th-that... mortals can..."

Darkness fell, Hachi cried out distantly in alarm, and the dizziness slipped into unconsciousness as Miroku fell.

"...attain..."

He did not move, even when he splashed limply into the water, face first.

* * *

Sango lowered herself into the cool lake, unable to stop herself from shivering at the temperature. She sank weakly and delicately into the depths, freeing her hair from its already loose braid and shaking it out behind her, carefully moving forward step by step until the water had gone from knees to her neck.

There, she sighed one shuddering breath that made the surface of the lake before her tremble.

There had been a lake like this, near her home. There, she had taught Kohaku how to swim.

Fresh tears rose at the bittersweet memory, and she ducked her head, exhaling painfully again before bowing to entirely submerge her head. The pressure filled in around her and forced her to focus- forced her to think.

What little childhood they had shared together, her so busy training, had so often been spent at that lake. It had started as her teaching him how to swim but in the end, it had simply been a way for them to be alone. Many sun-baked days she had passed lying on the shore while Kohaku splashed and played... their space alone together, a slice of beautiful peace in what had already been heaven.

Her heart ached with longing, and she kicked weakly in the water, gently floating up and down as the waves of the waterfall rippled.

Now, Kohaku wasn't here. Now, she was alone.

Completely.

Tears rose again, and she wrapped her arms around herself, sinking deeper into the lake.

It was likely no accident or mere coincidence she remembered this place as one that could've brought some modicum of comfort to her. She'd remembered this place and remembered Kohaku and the connection had been made, subconscious but true, and she'd been drawn here in search of peace. She'd hoped coming to this place would help her feel calmer. This place where her mind had once felt so at peace, and she had once been so happy- but now, she felt even worse than before.

Sango sobbed again, her heart breaking with longing.

 _Miroku, please._

 _Don't let this be the end._

She dropped further into the cold water, squirming and twitching uncomfortably with every new rise of memory from what Miroku's body, the Tessou's mind, had done. Her hands found where his had trailed and she scratched and pulled, fighting to get the feel of him off of her.

The cold water was no longer leaving her reminiscent of better days gone by and instead, simply mournful for what could no longer be. She went after what remained of Miroku's possession that still clung to her, shutting her eyes against the bloodied scars and shuddering back from where clawed hands had simply trailed in passing, invasive search.

Sango found herself angry at first, angry again, senselessly _angry_ at the dammed monk for vanishing off like this without so much as a word. She wanted to slap him until he was red in the face. She wanted to scream at him, demand just what the _hell_ he thought he was doing leaving in the middle of the night.

She wanted him _here_.

He'd made the decision that it was too difficult? Too painful? _He_ got to make that decision by himself? "Stupid houshi-sama," she hissed under her breath, fingers curling in the icy water. "He can make the decision to end this all by himself, can he? I guess he was the only who suffered during all this. Or were you really not committed since the beginning, is that it? Still always flirting with women, using your Kazanna on Saimyosho like it doesn't even matter, you still expect to die any day now- tch!"

Was that it, then? Had he not really thought it through when he'd asked her to marry him and been looking for a way out since? He'd certainly flirted with enough women to keep his options open. Had he just been looking for an easy excuse, was that it? Because the Miroku she knew wouldn't back down in the face of hardship; he'd charge in headfirst.

The restlessness that had been brewing for days capped over the top and Sango cried out in frustration. She was an active person; all this lying still, sitting _still_ ; it had done her no good. Now, with her emotions running high and Miroku simultaneously driving her mad and the only thing she could think about, it all boiled over as _simply too much._

With one single deep gasp of a breath, Sango dived headfirst into the icy water.

It rose over her and swallowed her up without pause, surrounding her in cold and clear turbulence of the lake, and she kicked back, bringing herself deeper. Stretching her chest at last pulled on her wound; swinging her arm through the water ached against injuries, everything hurting in a way that brought cold, clear clarity to her muddled mind, giving her a way to focus and truly see again.

Sango swam deeper still, kicking her way down to the bottom of the pool. Her hair streamed behind her and she stretched in the cold, reveling in the feel of action once again, mind clearing from its uncertain and confused ramblings that had so consumed her. The hot, stuffy room that had been her home these past few days, so close and small, Miroku always right there- it had definitely stifled her, and now, finally, she felt as if she could breathe.

She finally reached the frigid depths to bounce lightly off the rocky bottom of the pool, spreading her arms to slow her descent and blinking curiously at the cold, bright world that was so foreign to the one above.

The last time she'd been underwater like this, it had been her turn to be possessed.

It was a hazy memory, Kirara flying towards her under the lake and Hiraikotsu flung out in a devastating arc, Miroku astride her beloved cat's back and reaching for her in desperation. Their fight above the water was even harder to remember, blurs of staff against sword, blood against darkness. She wondered perhaps if it hadn't only been the possession that made her memories unclear, but if she'd tried to block it out.

Her first clear memories were of waking up in a panic after the salamander demon had been drawn out and killed. She'd found Kirara crouched protectively by her side, Shippo with her, and Miroku dozing against a tree while Kagome stitched lacerations drawn by her own blade.

In that moment, she'd felt sick to her stomach. Indescribably but undeniably terrible, like a leaden weight had settled in her gut, wanting to shut her eyes again and just pretend that she had never seen it. Awful in a way that nothing could fix.

 _Awful in a way that nothing could fix..._

Sango shut her eyes, slowly, gently, almost, going through the motion of throwing Hiraikotsu. She remembered how it had felt very well now, seeing Kirara and Miroku charging down into the current, and she carried her arm carefully through the same way she had then. She could almost hear the whirl of her trusted weapon, almost see Kirara rear back in alarm...

How she had felt then was how Miroku felt now. Awful in a way that nothing could fix.

How she'd felt when she woken to see Miroku unconscious and bleeding, and knowing it had been done by her hand- that was how he felt now. But her wounds weren't all physical- and he knew that.

And, just as he hadn't been able to assure her entirely with his usual calm smile and joking manner, she couldn't assure him now. This was something that took time. Effort.

Miroku running away was akin to him saying he wasn't going to put in that effort.

Sango glowered into the water, her anger at last rising again- but this time, muted by hot determination.

They'd made the decision to accept what had grown between them and fight for a future together.

They'd fought the Tessou _together._

So _what_ gave him the right to decide this was the end _alone?!_

Sango at last kicked off the bottom of the pool, her lungs strained to bursting. She kicked forward, swimming up through the misty depths with a true, focused fire she had not felt in days, one that carried from her all the way to burst through the surface gasping, heart pounding- and head, finally clear.

Grinning, Sango shook herself, still breathing hard, and glanced about for Kirara and her clothes. She blinked in surprise, however, when, waiting for her with her cat, was Kaede. The shrine maiden's back was turned respectfully, allowing her to get dressed in relative private, and, Sango flushed when she realized she hadn't even thought to mention to Kaede that she had been leaving. She swam quickly for the shore, already thinking of how to convince the shrine maiden to let her set off after Miroku. It wasn't that she couldn't simply leave regardless of what Kaede said- but common courtesy demanded she repaid all of the work Kaede had done for her and Miroku over the last week. She couldn't leave without at least seeing to that; she wasn't Inuyasha, for heaven's sake.

She briefly shook herself and wrung her hair out, eyes still on the shrine maiden's back. "Ah... sorry for leaving like this," she called nervously. "I was- distracted.."

Kaede merely chuckled knowingly, reaching out to scratch Kirara under her chin. "We all have our moments, dear. ...You want to go after him, don't you? Houshi-sama?"

She stopped again, face flushing an even brighter red than before. First Kagome and Shippo could see there was something between them- now even Kaede?! Were they the most transparent people on earth? "Th-that obvious, huh?"

Kaede didn't respond for a few moments, still playing with Kirara. It wasn't until Sango had finished tying off her belt and moved to sit down that the shrine maiden looked at her seriously, features grave. "I've been watching you two, you know. Something happened between you two- something that you weren't telling the others. Am I wrong?"

 _So observant..._ Sango bit her lip and looked to Kirara herself, unwilling to meet the shrine maiden's eye again. Her cat meowed softly and leaped over to curl in her lap, burying her head against her thigh. Sighing, Sango scratched her behind the ears before she answered- eyes, still down. "No... you guessed right, Kaede-sama. ...It could've been much worse, in so many ways- but- some things did happen, things that we've not been telling Kagome or Inuyasha. We just... we don't want them to know." She stopped and looked away, wringing her fingers out anxiously in her lap. The idea of either of them knowing what the Tessou had done... it was unbearable.

"It's really nothing," she muttered at length, when Kaede did not break the silence herself. "He could've killed me; I should just be grateful we both survived, right? I... I feel like I'm reacting a lot over nothing, I think... I should be able to handle this better." _He only touched me, after all. He could've killed me, he could've hurt me so much worse- and yet I'm reacting like this..._

"Sango."

Kaede's calm call jerked her out of her reverie, and, shaking her head at herself, Sango rubbed her eyes and swiftly returned her gaze to the shrine maiden, trying to force her focus onto anything but _that_ line of thoughts. Kaede simply waited patiently, watching her, and when she was sure she had her attention, she continued on.

"As humans, we fear the unknown, Sango. It is our nature. However, it is only the known that has the power to break us. Any demon can break our bodies- however, it takes one who holds our hearts to break our spirits. I have no doubt if you faced such a battle with Naraku, you would've escaped whole, no matter what he did to your body. Do not doubt or blame yourself for a reaction that is only human." Kaede paused for a moment, gaze moving from her eyes to stare out distantly over the water- remembering, likely, her own struggles with Naraku and her beloved sister. "You- you care for him greatly... if you did not, then we would not be here now. To care that greatly brings pain; this is inevitable... to care that greatly is also human. It's a good thing, Sango."

A good thing.

Sango smiled bitterly.

It was a weakness. It was what demons laughed at and used, it led to hardships and pain, it was something monsters like Naraku could always twist and turn against her, it was...

It was, still, a good thing.

The Tessou had hunted out the person Miroku cared for most and used that bond against them both. But, that bond now was also the only thing that gave her hope. In her worst moments against Naraku or her brother, _this_ that she had with Miroku was the only thing that kept her going. When the Tessou had still been alive and in Miroku, she'd fought on and persevered with the hope that she would get to see him alive and smiling again. It was, undoubtedly, a _good thing-_ no matter how hard or painful it was now. That pain was temporary. The feelings she had for him were not.

The demon was dead. She was done letting him still wreck havoc and destroy.

"You're right, Kaede-sama," she replied at last, steeling herself with nothing more than a breath and a firm nod. "And that's why I'm worried about him. He's off making decisions on his own again, as usual... he'll probably think it's easiest now to not come back. That's the way he is, you know. Rather suffer alone than risk any of us hurting for his sake." She shook her head at his foolishness, even as her heart ached with longing. "I- I very much wish to go after him, yes."

"Mmm? Very much wish to? Oh, I am not going to stop you, Sango. If you wish to, then go."

She couldn't help but look up in surprise, now to find the elder chuckling again, eyes twinkling. "What? But- you were so insistent this morning-"

"Yes, yes; and the way you were this morning, you would've stormed off without a plan and when you came face to face with him, said things you did not mean to the ultimate end of only hurting yourselves more. Now, you are clearheaded." Kaede looked her over again and nodded satisfactorily. "Would I still prefer that you rest more? Yes, perhaps, but sometimes, what the heart wants presides over the body's needs. ...At this point, nothing I say or do will keep you here. Go on, so as to put to rest any future regrets."

Sango continued to stare at her in surprise. Her blessing, too? Certainly better than anything she had expected to come from this. She hesitated, hand still on Kirara, then, at last, decided to take Kaede's gift and run with it.

"Thank you, Kaede-sama!" She inclined her head in respect, and Kirara jumped out of her lap to transform, as if sensing exodus was near. "This is on Houshi-sama's behalf, too; I'm assuming he didn't stop to thank you in his clandestine escape."

Kaede actually laughed now, smiling at her good naturedly as she gestured for her to get on Kirara. "No, he did not. Don't punish him too harshly for that, now."

 _Oh, I'll punish him, all right..._ "You've been a very gracious host, for such ungracious guests- please, is there anything we can do to repay you?"

"Stop worrying about me and go after him; that's my repayment, dear." Kaede winked again, and, as she said, Sango patted Kirara's back and was taken up into the sky, her heart at last cleared of uncertainty and suffering and set only on one goal.


	8. Chapter 8

Miroku seemed to be regaining consciousness more often than he just woke, nowadays.

This time, it was to a pounding head that was no stranger, the thick smell of incense, and the telltale sound of Mushin's heavy breathing. God, that man needed to put some modicum of effort into staying in shape if he didn't want to die before the next turn of seasons.

He rubbed his forehead irritably, groaning against what was sure to become a migraine, and tilted his head, squinting into the faint light. It was his old room at Mushin's temple; he recognized it now, though the blinds had been drawn to cloak the room in near darkness, lit only by candles. Ones used exclusively be temples and other holy sites, he recognized them as, sold for their ability to calm the spirit, and he frowned at Mushin, who even now sat against the wall, bent over the broken staff he had delivered. What was that man thinking?

"M-Mushin-sama...?"

The monk grunted from his position by the wall, raising his head at last to look at him with hooded eyes. "Awake at last, mmm?"

"What...?"

"You passed out," Mushin informed him steadily, looking back to the staff after a beat. "At the Pool of Sacred Healing, of all places. Hachi carried you all the way back here- in a panic, I might add. He deserves a drink."

Miroku scowled. "Which, I'm sure he can very easily find here, courtesy of yourself."

Mushin just grunted at that, finishing off whatever he'd been trying to do before facing him fully, features cloaked in the flickering shadows of the room. It reminded Miroku a lot of Kaede's home, these past few days, with Sango, and he grimaced, trying not to think too much about that.

The senior monk worked for a minute longer, fingers flying over the staff in the low light and near silence, until at last he set it aside and turned to face him fully. Their eyes met, Mushin's gaze an inquisitive one that Miroku only bore for a few seconds before looking away, fidgeting, and his master sighed. "I think, Miroku," he said gravely, "you'd best tell me how this happened."

And, exhausted, sore, no reason to lie, and beaten down mentally into defeat- Miroku did.

The story took almost half an hour, by his reckoning; he omitted only things that the Tessou had done against Sango that were not his to tell. It would've been horrible enough for him to say aloud, but even if he had seen it with his own eyes, the way the Tessou had gone after her was distinctly personal and something he wouldn't have felt right telling, even to Mushin. That was Sango's story to decide to tell- or not tell.

Everything else, though, he murmured in the near darkness of his room, alternatively watching Mushin's face, growing graver and graver by the minute, and the floor.

At last, he finished, and trailed off into a deadened silence.

It was the first time he'd explained what happened, beginning to end. He'd had to stop in places, gathering still occasionally unclear or hazy memories, and other times simply to steel himself enough to go on, explaining to his master how devastatingly badly he'd failed to stop a demon from using him as a weapon to slaughter innocent people.

By the time he'd concluded his voice was hoarse, and he'd still barely looked Mushin in the eye. In the silence, his master sat back with a long sigh, still serious and quiet, no longer working over the staff that he had set aside some time ago and now shaking his head slightly at the floor. "They should've brought you straight here," he muttered regretfully at last, eyes still down. "Could've done an exorcism- saved you a lot of trouble. Instead tasking it to the taijiya girl... trained in slaying demons, not exorcising spirits..." He shook his head again, and Miroku frowned at him.

"I'd like to think that the way things turned out isn't exactly how any of us had hoped for," he pointed out. "It was probably their intention to get me here; they just couldn't." _Here, or, more likely, Kaede-sama's... last time we left here, they didn't have the best impression of you._

Mushin tsked again, clearly barely reserving his judgement for a more appropriate time. "And _you_ should've told me, boy!" he muttered, looking just this side of thwacking him on the head. "Not in your right mind quite yet, is that it? Going to the Sacred Pool under these circumstances is dangerous, you should know; I never would've sent you if you'd explained. It's probably why you passed out. Your Sango killed the demon, but there was still never a proper exorcism done. There were still remnants of that thing in you- the pool tried to purify them. They should've been exorcised out of you first." Mushin shook his head again, frowning at him. "What were you thinking, Miroku? You should've known that!"

He blinked, rubbing his head again. Mushin was right, he should've known that. He'd known the pool had strong purifying powers, and he knew that, unless properly exorcised and sealed, there could've been some of the Tessou still clinging on to him. Demon souls were extraordinarily tenacious. How had he allowed that slip his mind? Hell, there'd been signs all along of a demon's spirit clinging to him- Kirara's sudden distrust of him, unclear and blocked memories, the general feeling of illness or that he was unwell... it was ridiculous that he hadn't made the connection before now, actually.

"I... I guess I've had a lot on my mind lately," he mumbled lamely. It was a terrible excuse, but he could think of no other reason. He'd been entirely focused on Sango ever since the Tessou had been killed- god, it felt like months ago now. So much had changed, and so quickly. It felt like so much had changed and happened since then; he'd honestly forgotten it had only been a week, and there was still a danger of remnants of the Tessou's spirit lingering behind.

Sighing, he shook his head at himself and gingerly pushing himself up into a sitting position, trying to focus on something other than past failings. He winced, rubbing his chest again, even as he looked to Mushin. "Well, what about now?" he asked. "Passing out cold into the pool should've purified everything, I suppose?" He managed a grin along with it, and Mushin rolled his eyes.

"Most likely, but we'd best err on the safe side for once, don't you think?"

Miroku groaned again. So, he had a Mushin-brand exorcism to look forward to in his future. He knew from experience Mushin actually did know what he was doing, or else any actual exorcisms that he'd done wouldn't have worked- but, he'd only ever seen Mushin doing them on young, pretty girls. That didn't exactly boost his confidence.

"I'll give you a week or two until we get rid of the rest of the demon; your body's still worn out from the first time in the pool. In the meantime, I'll work on fixing your staff." Then Mushin frowned, waving one of the broken ends at him again. "Don't tell me that those friends of yours sent you out here alone just to get this repaired? They seemed awfully protective of you last time I met them. I don't picture them letting you out alone right now, Miroku."

He winced, the circumstances of his midnight flight here returning to him again. "Ah... well... about that, Mushin-sama..."

Mushin took one look at him and groaned.

"They don't know you're here, do they."

"...Nope."

Mushin groaned again. "So, you're telling me that a dog-eared hanyou is going to come kicking down my door any second now?"

Miroku winced at the prospect. He doubted Inuyasha was looking for him; he could protect himself, after all, and right now, searching for Naraku and Sacred Jewel shards trumped everything else. The only one who'd be driven to search for him right now would be Sango- if she wasn't still too disgusted by what he'd done. But, Sango was still injured. Even with Kirara, there was no way she would be coming after him for at least a week.

By then, he planned to be long gone.

Rather than try and explain away his group's non-presence here, he simply laughed and gave a weak shrug, shaking his head at his master. "I flew here on Hachi, Mushin-sama; Inuyasha can't track my scent."

Mushin looked at him suspiciously before letting the subject drop- but, it was clear he was sure more was going on than he was telling. His master's suspicions were perfectly accurate, of course; didn't mean he had to confirm them. Miroku yawned and looked away, rubbing at his head again, listening as Mushin withdrew again to once more begin work on his staff. A comfortable silence fell, allowing Miroku to simply lie back and close his eyes, relaxing his way into a meditative state. He'd hoped getting away from the others would've helped him clear his mind; unfortunately, it was just as difficult for him to focus as before, and he groaned.

 _Just give yourself time,_ he thought to himself, shaking his head. Healing from what happened was a laughable thought, but the distance he'd infused between himself and Sango would help her. That was what was important. He would simply have to learn to live with it.

That was what he centered himself around for those next long hours: learning to live with what he could no longer have, even if he still yearned for her.

He must've passed, at some point, into sleep, because when he opened his eyes again, Mushin was no longer present, and the previously pounding headache had been reduced away into only a barely noticeable ache. He sighed in the near darkness, wincing at the grating feel of still broken ribs.

And then, a whisper that came from nothing and made his heart stop.

"Found you, bozu."

He may have expected differently- but he had honestly hoped to never hear that voice again.

And certainly not so soon.

Miroku slowly tilted his head to stare, still in complete and wordless shock.

Inuyasha stood by the door, arms folded, ears twitching with annoyance. His eyes flashed when Miroku's gaze found his and the hanyou pushed himself off the wall, still looking him over with a frown firmly set in place. "You know how much trouble you got me in? Running off on your own like that... tch." Inuyasha shook his head and started to walk forward, looking irritated now. "Kagome just about killed me when I dared suggest you'd be fine on your own, and I thought Sango was about to come charging after you herself."

At that, Miroku's heart skipped a beat, and he sat upright in a panic. He'd known Sango would be frustrated and angry- but already, to the point of chasing after him?! "She- she's not coming, is she, Inuyasha?!"

He didn't answer at first, instead just dropping lightly to his knees beside him and eyeing him oddly, ears twitching again. "...No," he at last said at length, shaking his head. "Kagome talked her out of it. ...You're safe if she's what you're running from, Miroku."

The cold, matter of fact way he spoke... Miroku couldn't help but look away, his fists clenching and his heart dropping like a stone. Running away? He wasn't _running away_ from anything! He was trying to _help_ Sango, that was all.

When he said as such, Inuyasha merely groaned.

"You're running away, Miroku, whether you'll admit it to yourself or not. But if that's what you want to tell yourself, then go ahead."

He said it leaving no room for debate, not backing down even at the incredulous stare that Miroku leveled his way, and at last the monk turned his gaze away, anxiety rising. He shifted to push himself up again, broken ribs be dammed, and kept his head turned away, looking towards the floor. His mouth felt dry, for some reason, breath hard to come by, like he wanted to speak but couldn't think of what to say, and he kept his silence.

 _Inuyasha, why did you come here?_

"Mushin told us what happened," the hanyou said at length, picking at one of his claws, seeming just as awkward as he felt. "You feeling better?"

"I- I'm fine," Miroku mumbled, again, without looking at him.

 _If it was just to make me feel uncomfortable, you succeeded, but... that's not why you're here, is it?_

"You don't look it."

 _Sango didn't send you, you wouldn't have come... Kagome didn't make you, you wouldn't be here without her if that was this case... why did you search for me, Inuyasha?_

 _Why did you come?_

At last, he turned to look his friend in the eye.

The muted worry he found there made his gut flip flop, and his fists clench again.

 _Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like there's something wrong, because if you do, then I'll have to face the fact that not everything's all right._

"Why did you come here, Inuyasha?"

It was Inuyasha's turn to look away, more gracefully than he had, perhaps, with less of an air of obvious avoidance, but he could call it by any name; it didn't change the fact that the hanyou was avoiding looking at him. He stretched his claws again and cracked his knuckles in a ripple of painful sounding clicks. "Could ask you the same thing, you know?"

 _Heh. We're both dancing around it, now._

"My staff needed repairing," he returned evenly. "Now seemed as good a time as any."

"And Hachi could've just as easily flown it here without your involvement," Inuyasha pointed out. "Still would've gotten repaired, and Sango wouldn't be looking like she wanted to murder someone. Likely you."

Again. Sango.

Inuyasha was mentioning her on purpose, and, if by the way even her name made it hurt somewhere deep in his chest, it was working. "Sango's always mad at me, for one reason or another. Similar to Kagome and you, Inuyasha."

"It's not at all similar; don't compare me and you!" he growled back. "You do things to piss her off! I just do what I normally would and sometimes find Kagome slamming my face into the ground because of it."

Miroku grinned wryly. "That's why you're here, I'm assuming. Kagome?"

"Keh." Inuyasha's ears twitched again, a telltale sign of irritation, but he did look carefully towards the door to make sure the schoolgirl was nowhere in sight before he replied. "Yeah. Maybe. ...In the beginning. Then, I talked to Mushin." Inuyasha paused, looking at him oddly. "...You weren't intending to come back, were you."

It wasn't a question.

And by the way Inuyasha was looking at him, even if Miroku tried to lie, it wouldn't be accepted.

"...I was just going to give it a few weeks," he muttered, hands clenching in anxiety again. "I did need my staff repaired. It would take Mushin-sama a few weeks. At the end of it, if I still thought it'd be best for Sango, then... well, you wouldn't have found me here, and I would've stayed away." He looked his friend in the eye, no matter how difficult it was, and forced himself to go on. "Yes, Inuyasha; I wouldn't have come back."

Inuyasha merely raised an eyebrow. "What, no goodbye? No wishing us luck? Thought you wanted Naraku dead, too."

Miroku sighed. He raised his cursed hand, flexing his fingers, watching as the locked prayer beads shifted around his wrist. "Of course I do. But with Saimyosho following us everywhere we go, I'm not much use to you, now am I? My Kazanna is my greatest attribute, and without it, I'm simply human. Not much place in a fight among demons."

"Yet you've seemed to have managed fine until now. You're making excuses, Miroku."

Excuses. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Of course he was. He'd just hoped Inuyasha would be a little more accepting of them.

When Miroku did not reply, the hanyou sighed again and interlocked his fingers behind his head, leaning back against the wall. "Face it, Miroku; you ran away. For- what was that you said, because it was best for Sango? Ha! Lucky she's not here to hear you say that or you'd be dead right about now, Miroku. Best for her? _Best?_ I've never seen her that angry! And you better watch out for Kirara; even if Sango forgives you, that cat's liable to want to tear you apart next time you show your face. And don't expect us to help you there; you brought this on yourself, you know!"

It took all of Miroku's self control not to respond.

Inuyasha hadn't _been there,_ he forcefully reminded himself between carefully measured breaths. He'd fought Inuyasha in the beginning, yes. Inuyasha had seen the destruction the Tessou had brought down onto that poor village. And he'd been there just minutes after Sango had killed the demon and he'd run from her, unable to face what he'd done.

But he still didn't know what had happened.

After all, what Inuyasha knew the Tessou had done- those crimes alone would be devastating enough to even try and live with. But going after Sango the way he had; what he'd done to her- he couldn't ever ask her to live with that and still stand side by side with him in battle or in life. He'd seen the look on her face when she saw him by her side... that split second cast of heartstopping fear...

 _I could never ask her to suffer through that._

 _If only I hadn't grabbed that damn sword-!_

More than anything in the world right now, he wished he had never even touched the Tessou's sword. Never even seen it. Never heard the name.

He regretted it more than anything he'd ever done.

 _Yet, regret solves nothing. These hands of mine are still forever covered in blood, and these hands of mine still hurt Sango. Cursed since birth, now, in more ways than one... Sango has suffered enough. I won't include her in this curse. I won't force her to suffer its effects alongside me._

At last, Miroku found his voice again.

"Inuyasha," he muttered, eyes shut, shoulders shaking from sheer memory. "Inuyasha, you don't know all that happened. Everything Sango went through. What she- what I did to her..." He swallowed the lump in his throat and clenched his fists again, trembling with regret. "Seeing me will only bring her pain. If that pain is avoidable, then- then who am I to force it on her by staying? ...You don't know what happened between us, Inuyasha, you don't understand-"

The fist that came down on the back of his head was unexpected, brutal, and _definitely_ unforgiving.

Inuyasha's fingers spread, claws digging into the back of his neck to keep his head down even then as the hanyou knelt next to him to growl in his ear, voice abruptly infused with so much raw anger it left Miroku breathless. "Understand, bozu? I don't understand? So _that's_ why you crawled off to hide, tail in between your legs, wallowing in your self pity- don't understand, eh, Miroku? You're not so special, you know! _Don't understand- keh!"_

The hanyou whirled away as quickly as he'd gone down, turning his back in a rise of fury that came from nowhere, tapping his foot in nervous energy so fast it was almost a blur. Stunned, Miroku stayed down, head bent almost uncomfortably where Inuyasha had forced it, still staring at his friend's back in disbelief.

If Inuyasha's intention had been to shock him out of self-pity, because he was right, that's what it had felt like he was stuck in, it had worked.

"Yeah. The Tessou did something to Sango you two aren't telling us about. I get that," Inuyasha muttered, back still turned to him. He paused for a moment, bare foot still tapping. "...You don't have to tell us. But don't think you're the only one who gets what that's like, Miroku." He hesitated again, longer than before; the silence dragged on until Inuyasha had regained control again, the twitching easing until he let out one quiet, shuddering sigh, and fingered Tetsusaiga by the hilt.

"You've seem me, Miroku," Inuyasha said at last. The hanyou bowed his head again, hand still on his father's fang. "You seen what I'm capable of when I lose control. I could kill Naraku- Sesshomaru, even. But at the cost of- myself." Inuyasha stopped again, evidently unable or unwilling to go on.

Miroku stared at him, the stiff, cold words in the quiet darkness bringing back the chilling memory of when a red-eyed, snarling beast that had recognized none of them as anything beyond prey. Inuyasha's hold on the key that unlocked the power inside him tightened, and the hanyou shook his head again, form tense.

"Unlike you, I don't remember anything I've done in that state. Kagome won't tell me, either. But I saw enough. I was covered in blood, there were bodies everywhere... the way you were all looking at me... I think I can guess at what I did." Inuyasha shook his head slightly, hand still on Tetsusaiga, then at last turned to face him again. His eyes flashed in steady, unwavering determination, golden gaze fixated directly onto him. "Unlike you, that thing is still inside me. It will be until I die. Even with Tetsusaiga, it can still come out. All I can do is try to control it and tell all of you to run. But, you guys wouldn't, would you? I've told you that before- and every single one of you stays. Even knowing I could very easily kill you."

Inuyasha continued to stare down at him, hard gaze unyielding in the dancing firelight. "You all make that choice to stay. Even when I tell you to run. Kagome told me it would hurt her more to run away than anything I could do to her in that state... I'd imagine that's how Sango feels right now. You running away hurt her more than anything else, Miroku."

At those harsh words, Miroku couldn't help but flinch, and Inuyasha gave a single stubborn nod. "Does that hurt, to hear that? Good. It should." The hanyou paced forward without pause and dropped lightly to his knees across from him, gripping him by the shoulder tightly when he tried to pull away. "You and I both have to learn to live with things that we did when we couldn't control or stop the demon forcing us. But running away isn't the way to do that, Miroku. It's not our place to decide it's too dangerous or painful for them to deal with; if they want to take that on, then we have no right to stop them. I've tried to tell Kagome more times than I count that she should leave, before she gets seriously hurt or killed, either by Naraku or me. She won't. I've tried to tell her she should leave, because seeing me with Kikyo hurts her and... and I can't forget Kikyo. She still won't. I can't understand why she thinks I'm worth her pain but- she does. It's her choice." Inuyasha stopped, breathing hard, and shut his eyes for a moment, regret shining through like nothing else. "...It's her choice. Just as you are Sango's. Whatever the Tessou did to her that you're not telling us, she still wants you there with her. Run away if you want, Miroku- but don't lie to yourself and say that it's for her."

Having said what he had to say, Inuyasha rose again and turned his back to proceed out the door, leaving Miroku crouched behind him, stunned.

* * *

 _Next update will be the final one! Unfortunately, I'm not sure when that will come; I have it written, but not proofread, and tomorrow morning I take my computer into the shop to be fixed. I can't proofread on my phone, so until I get my computer back (hopefully around a week, though I'd love for less), I can't update. Reviews, anyone :)_


	9. Chapter 9

Computer troubles, resolved (but not before it ate my first attempt at proofreading; any other authors out there you KNOW how difficult it is to redo work that you lost...). But, at last, onto the final chapter! Thank you all for reviewing; I'm glad you've enjoyed thus far, and I hope you enjoy this one as well!

 **This chapter is rated M for sexual content.**

* * *

Kirara followed Inuyasha's trail.

Just how her cat sought out and flew along the hanyou's path so precisely, Sango wasn't sure; a sense of smell to rival his, or some primal sense that she lacked entirely; whatever it was, she trusted Kirara. And, after an achingly long day that at last ended at her flying away from the setting sun, when Kirara at last began to descend on what she faintly recognized as Mushin's temple, Sango had no doubts.

She simply rubbed Kirara's back in gratitude and looked over the temple with narrowed eyes, already steeling herself for the confrontation that was to come.

"So, this is where you came to hide, Houshi-sama." He'd run back to his old home, then. If she'd been forced to guess where he'd gone, this would've been her first target.

Kirara carefully flew her down towards the temple, taking her to land in an inner courtyard. Her cat landed gentler than she was used to and Sango smiled again, scratching her neck. It wasn't necessary, but she knew the precaution was entirely for her sake, her and her still present injuries. "Thank you, Kirara," she murmured before, with a heavy breath, reverted her attention to search around the courtyard.

She found the reason that Kirara had chosen to land here, rather than at the temple's entrance, almost immediately.

Miroku- looking as stunned as she felt.

She froze.

The monk was sitting off to the edge of the courtyard, staring at her motionlessly. He looked better than she remembered- blood and dirt stains that had lingered now gone, the pallor, vanished- but physical appearances said nothing for emotional wellbeing, and she remained tense. He was clearly shocked into inaction, eyes wide by her appearance alone and features stuck in utter disbelief.

And Sango, for her part, just stared at him, open mouthed and mind blank.

It had barely been two days since she'd seen him last, and somehow, standing here now, it felt like a lifetime. Perhaps because, if he'd had his way, it would've been.

She had no words. And, in that moment, no restraint, either. Her emotions and her heart pulled her forward, raising her hand, and Miroku continued to sit without moving, even though he was surely aware of her intent. He simply _sat there,_ and Sango just walked forward, emotions roiling to such an extent she couldn't control or even express them, just found herself moving in a soulless state that she couldn't stop.

Her hand whirled around to slap Miroku across the face.

Even then, the anger boiling up inside her still did not ease, did not lessen, found no true _release,_ and the mere sight of him sitting there, head whipped to the side, faint red mark already forming on his cheek, did nothing except increase the fury inside her.

" _You,"_ she growled, a singular break into the frigid silence.

 _You._

" _You left."_

Miroku didn't so much as twitch in response.

When she did not go on, because she could just not master her emotions enough to articulate anything clearly, slowly, the monk slowly raised a hand to clasp it over the spot where she'd slapped him. Then, just as slowly, he turned to face her- eyes, still wide.

"You left," she accused him again, that single statement all she could handle.

He just stared at her.

Sango had had so many plans formulate on her flight here. Plans that consisted of her forcing some sense into Miroku, beating it into his thick skull if so necessary, making him see the light, then tossing him on Kirara and telling him if he wanted to get away again, the only way was to jump off. Her plans had all begun confidently and ended victoriously.

So why, now that she was finally face to face with him, had all those plans disintegrated into dust?

"Sango," he stammered weakly at last, still staring at her in shock. "You... you came."

Once again, she found herself pushed into a state where all self control and sense had been removed. Once again, Miroku was able to force her to where she couldn't strategize or think; all she had was impulse transforming into action. "Yes," she snapped back, heart pounding. "You left, and I came."

She was still angry, angry beyond words- and before she knew it, her body had reacted and moved on that anger.

Sango threw herself forward, hands curling against his shoulders and forcing the monk onto his back, trapping him down on the floor with a choked cry of frustration. Miroku gasped and she pushed at his shoulders again, slamming him against the wood without pause or regret. "You _left,_ you son of a bitch! You were there when I woke up, I did _everything_ that I could to save you, and you- you-!" She raised her hand again, bringing it down to smack against his face with every word she snarled out. "You- repaid- me- by- _leaving!"_

Her voice escalated to a furious scream that tore at her throat and her hands just started shaking and didn't stop. Every time she hit him she just got more incensed, the boundless fury in her progressing even further to something she just could not grasp or even understand. The mere _sight_ of thunderstruck, utterly shocked Miroku just kept her slapping him over and over again, angry tears rising until she could barely even see.

It wasn't until the monk at last grabbed her firmly by the wrists, yanking her arms apart and trapping her trembling hands against his, that she realized anger had melted into soft sorrow.

Miroku stared at her still, red-faced and panting, clearly knocked speechless, but his hands were still tight around on hers, his eyes boring into hers- and all her resistance just dissolved.

Her legs dropped, bringing her down to her knees in front of him. Her arms, too, moved of their own accord, gently tugging her hands out of his no longer resisting grip to move slowly, gently around him. She touched him tentatively at first, as if she moved too fast or too rough he might disappear. When he stiffened in surprise but did not draw back, her grip tightened and the will keeping her upright vanished, leaving her to drop against him, holding him in a grip so strong he couldn't have broken it even if he'd tried.

"You _left,"_ she whispered in his ear, and she _hated_ the fact that her voice was shaking just as much as the fact that she couldn't stop it. "Y-you... you _left._ "

And at last, he responded.

"I know," he said back, voice hushed into just a whisper as well. He let her still hold him against the floor, face buried in the crook of his neck. "...It was a mistake, Sango. I should've talked to you first- it wasn't something I should've done on my own."

"Mistake?!" she cried. Him vanishing in the middle of the night without a single word- just a _mistake?!_

"Sango, I-"

" _No!"_ She pulled back from him as quickly as she'd fallen against him, still holding him in place- but this time with an iron, unshakeable will, even as the tears continued to fall from her eyes. " _No,_ Houshi-sama! You don't get to just call that a mistake! You _left-_ and you did not mean to come back! Am I wrong?!"

He looked even more panicked now, eyes going to the hands that still held him down as he tried to squirm away. "Sango-"

" _Yes or no, Houshi-sama! Am I wrong?!"_

First there was denial flickering across strained features- denial, that faded weakly into resignation. That look made her heart squeeze in painful longing again, and she blinked furiously past tears, waiting in heartbreak for the answer that she knew was coming.

The guilty, pained look on Miroku's face said quite plainly that he did not want to say it. But she refused to move back, holding him in place with nothing more than the weight of her gaze- he had no choice but to tell the truth.

"No," he forced out at last. He blinked nervously but still did not look away. "No. I wasn't going to come back."

And, there, at last, she had it. He'd confirmed it- she had been right.

That parting, if he'd had his way, had been meant to be final.

Those words made her heart sink.

When she shut her eyes, shoulders trembling as she tried valiantly to control her pounding heart, she felt Miroku shift again, heard him try to start explaining or defending. "Sango, please, listen, I never-"

"Shut up."

She barely retained the control to raise a finger telling him to stop, eyes still shut. Sango took in another shaky breath, molding the indescribable emotions inside her now into something she could use. Miroku remained still beneath her, evidently corralled into following what she wanted- either that, or too frightened of setting her off again to risk breaking away.

"You told me that, should we both still live when we defeated Naraku, we would marry. You said it was too dangerous to try something more with me while we still fought Naraku and I accepted that, but you also said things would be different if we should both survive this fight. Did you change your mind?"

"I- no, but-"

"Oh. So you didn't change your mind." She released him at last, withdrawing from the monk to sit back on her heels, still forcing out each measured breath to stop herself from losing control entirely. "You just elected yourself to decide to finish things. You decided, by yourself, that it would be too difficult, and left. Let me guess- you thought it would be best for me, right? You didn't want to hurt me, so you simply left in the middle of the night without saying a word? Leaving, without saying goodbye, all of it- you thought it was best for me." She opened her eyes at last, fixating her gaze on the still shellshocked monk lying on his back. Miroku had paled but still wasn't drawing away; he looked nervous, and rightfully so, but this time like he would stand his ground and answer for what he'd done. The nervous determination she saw there was entirely different from the indecisive fear she remembered that firelit night back in Kaede's home- entirely different, in what she wanted to think was a good way.

"You're correct," he said at last, still watching her a little nervously. "At the time, I- I believed I was acting for your sake."

Something in his voice gave her pause, and Sango at last pulled back a little, staring at him uncertainly- her heart still pounding. "You- believed?"

Miroku nodded back tentatively. "Yes. I realize now that I was being... selfish. I tend to do that at times; surely you've noticed." He tried a weak smile, and when that didn't set her off, he took advantage of her surprise to gently extricate himself from her grip and sit upright. He pulled uncomfortably at his ponytail, eyes darting around the courtyard to look anywhere but at her. "...Inuyasha beat you here," he confessed finally- much to her shock. "Sorry, Sango, but I think much of what you intend to say, he's already shouted at me." He risked looking at her for half a second before his gaze fixated firmly at his feet.

Inuyasha had beaten her here? Well, no surprise there, otherwise Kirara wouldn't have had a trail to follow- but she'd gotten the distinct impression from him that he had only gone in search of Miroku because Kagome was forcing him. There had been no indication Inuyasha had been going to try and convince or even talk to Miroku at all, just drag him back before continuing on their seemingly infinite hunt for the sacred shards.

Sango had to resist the urge to smile. Inuyasha really tried sometimes to act indifferent and tough, but it couldn't hide the fact that he really did care.

"So?" she questioned, meeting Miroku's gaze again and shaking her head to clear it. "What exactly did Inuyasha say?"

The monk took a breath, still eyeing her a little cautiously as if she was about to snap again. "What had you slapping me, I'd imagine. ...I thought I was leaving for your benefit but- I wasn't. You- what happened- what the Tessou did-" He broke off for a shaky breath, suddenly unable to meet her eyes again. "I couldn't see us getting past that. ...If you hadn't- if you hadn't guessed, Sango, I've never had a long term- well, anything." He stopped again, flushing faintly and eyes darting anywhere but on her. When he went on, it was in a rush, as if he was eager to get it all out and done with. "I've promised a lot of women a lot of things, but I've never felt or wanted anything from any one of them besides the heir I need until you, Sango. I've never felt that before. And when it got hard, when it got painful, I couldn't see it getting better. I thought it was painful for you but, I knew it was for me- and I left for my sake." He shut his eyes for a moment, the tension coiled in his stiff form and the way his fists clenched by his sides showing just how hard this was for him. "That's what Inuyasha made me understand. ...He made me realize I couldn't make that decision for you. Whether it's painful for you or not- it's still your choice whether or not to endure that."

And at long last, that self disgust faded from his features- to be replaced by nothing but soulful determination. His eyes were bright for the first time in what felt like a while and he actually _looked_ at her without flinching or pulling away. "Whatever choice you make, Sango," he promised, and held out his hand for her to take, "I'll follow it."

And at last- _here_ was the Miroku she remembered.

Certain. Determined. Not twitching away or staring at his feet but looking her right in the eye.

And, best of all, _smiling._

The Tessou had smiled a lot, in possession of Miroku; small, cruel twists of her monk's mouth to reveal pointed, bloodied fangs, or confidence contorted into sadistic pleasure, just darkness embodied in a demon's amusement at suffering and death.

When the Tessou had smiled, _her_ monk had looked so far removed from that which she was used to, she had almost not been able to recognize him.

Now, at long last- _her_ Miroku was back.

This time, when she approached him, it was to embrace him.

Sango felt him jump in surprise but when she did not relent, he relaxed in degrees, first allowing the built up tension to slip away and then, cautiously, returning her hold, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her even closer. She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to just breathe for a moment, take in their very tentative but still present peace and live in this precious moment she had at last grasped.

"We still need to talk about this," she murmured reluctantly, but made absolutely no move to pull away.

Miroku nodded into her shoulder. "I know." His fingers uncertainly curled in her hair, and she let them, reveling in this hard fought moment that if she could've wished it to be eternal, she would have in a heartbeat.

After the sheer hell they had fought through together with the Tessou, Sango didn't want difficult discussions. She didn't want to think about what Miroku had been forced to do to her or that the only reason they were here now was because he'd tried to leave her.

She just wanted this.

And so, she took it.

It was slow and hesitant at first, her fingers climbing to cup his face and turn him towards her. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him, but her heart still skipped a beat when he reciprocated without the pause or hesitation that had become achingly familiar. The fingers in her hair curled tighter for a beat before his mind caught up with instinct, and he gently pulled back, eyes searching hers. "Sango-"

Sango stopped him with a finger to his lips. She didn't know what to say so she didn't speak, struggling for words for only a moment before she just shook her head at him, instilling silence without breaking it. No discussions, painful memories, regrets, guilt; she couldn't do any of it. There was this escalating well of desperate, physical _need_ inside her that took no words for an answer and it was what brought her hands back to hold his face, to bring it back to hers, to kiss him again.

All of the anguish that demon had put them both through, physical and mental and some tortuous combination of the two- it was all at the forefront of her mind and body now crying for release. She wanted to forget it all. To let it pass away from the forefront of everything to memory where it belonged. And that powerful need drove her far more completely than any thought or wish could.

Gentle and soft spiraled into rough and harsh, hands yanking at his hair and lips demanding in unquestionable escalation. Throughout it all, Miroku remained willing and, yet, utterly submissive. He let her kiss him, let her hands search and grab in his hair, let her bring the both of them to the ground, but there was little active in his participation, and at last, she had to break away.

"Houshi-sama," she panted, her voice low enough to surprise even herself. "Houshi-sama, what-?"

Suddenly possessive hands curled tightly in her hair, crushing her to him with a quick intake of breath. Miroku shook his head vehemently, but she was left in the dark until, trembling, the monk raised his head just enough to look her in the eye. His eyes were dark with the same indescribable need she felt and she found herself takenaback, even as he struggled for words. He looked almost distraught, features contorted with urgency until he at last managed to put his request to words.

"Miroku. My name, Sango." She felt his fingernails curl against her shoulder so tightly they bit into her skin, and he bowed his head, trembling again. "You called me by my name, after you killed the Tessou. Never before then; never after. That was the only time. ...Say it again."

Sango stared at him, tongue suddenly leaden, her mind spinning. She only barely remembered the moment now, how hectic it had been, how terrified she'd felt- Miroku hadn't been responding to anything she said, so she'd tried his name. That was all. She'd slipped back into her habitual _houshi-sama_ once the moment had passed without even realizing it.

"Say it again, Sango. _Please."_

She blinked, staring at the monk again. How desperate he seemed, how much wanted to hear her just say his name...

Sango smiled.

After everything they had gone through together, she was pretty sure she could handle at least that much.

"Miroku," she breathed. "... _Miroku."_

The name felt curiously foreign on her tongue, and she tried it again, watching the intense relief on Miroku's face grow with his anguished smile. "Miroku."

She said his name like a blessing, and that time, the monk collapsed against her, falling rather than just leaning over her and capturing her face in desperate hands in a rough kiss. There was nothing gentle or slow about it, just raw need, and even in shock, she returned it without pause.

 _Miroku._

"God, Sango," he gasped, eyes still shut. _"Sango..._ I love you."

A promise to marry may have not left her much in the dark about his feelings for her- but that was the first time she had heard him actually say those words aloud. And at that, every ounce of physical control she had shattered in absolute, heart rending emotion.

 _And I love you, Miroku. God help me, I love you._

She moved without thought or conscious decision, hands driven by raw need alone. She roughly yanked his collar apart to meet his shoulder blade in a ravenous kiss, fingers already searching elsewhere and desperately pulling at robes. At long last Miroku's response was not squirming away or hesitation or fear but finally reciprocation; fingers tugged at her kimono until her shoulders had been bared and he kissed in the same desperation that she had until at last he broke away for air, eyes still burning. "Sa- Sango," he gasped, voice low, fingers twitching with barely restrained desire. " _Sango._ You are sure this is what you want? You are sure that you're read-"

His head thunked back against the floor, her mouth, once more against his.

That was all the answer she had a mind to give- and all the answer that he would need.

The kiss was returned after a stunned beat of shock and his hands found her hair, tangling it into knots between grasping, pulling fingers. He'd clearly only been able to stop himself through a great degree of restraint and now that his one worry had been removed, so had any reason he'd had to stop.

"We're outside- you know-" she gasped, eyes meeting his only briefly before he dropped again to kiss along her shoulder. "Shouldn't-"

He stopped again, pushing her up and back to stare at her, bright-eyed and fevered, chest heaving. "I don't care, Sango. I don't- I don't _care."_ He stopped, clearly struggling to put his feelings into words. "I need this _now._ You love me _now._ Not after we stumble around looking for an empty room; this needs to happen _now,_ Sango!"

In the blink of an eye, his hands had found her hips and lifted her again, flipping their positions of dominance to leave her back against the floor and him above her, face held in his hands and lips still rough and demanding against hers. "I love you, Sango," he breathed again, the declaration closer to a desperate prayer, and in that moment, there was no uncertainty or hesitation left at all.

 _I love you, Miroku._

 _I love you._

 **Fin**

* * *

 **Omake!**

When Sango and Miroku made their appearance together the next morning, it wasn't to the interrogation that she had expected.

Rather than urgently bursting forward to inquire about the state of their relationship, Kagome abruptly flamed bright red at the very sight of them and buried herself in her pack. Inuyasha, who she'd expected a few questions or at the very least a few offhand comments from, simply folded his arms and looked away with an awkward cough.

Sango stopped in the doorway, glancing at Miroku uncertainly. He seemed just at confused at their strange reception as her, and they stood there together for a moment before she simply cleared her throat and stepped forward, looking between the two again. "Ah, good morning?"

Kagome stayed down, face hidden; all she could see of the schoolgirl were the reddened tips of her ears. "G-g-good morning..." Kagome squeaked back, and Inuyasha continued to stare at the floor, ears twitching in embarrassment.

They stood there together, uncertain and still very confused. Sango had no idea what could've caused this very strange reaction- it seemed almost embarrassed. She glanced self consciously down at herself, then Miroku; there was nothing illuminating to be found and she shared her lost stare and offered up a unsure shrug of his own. The monk glanced from her to Inuyasha when no one else spoke, raising an eyebrow. "Are we- missing something, here?"

Still not looking at either one of them, Inuyasha finally cleared is throat, fingers twitching by his sides awkwardly. "Yeah. Uh. Just a reminder, Miroku, Sango." He fidgeted. "...Next time you, um..." He made an awkward gesturing with his hand between them, gaze still firmly fixated on some spot over their heads. "...Go inside first."

"...Huh?"

Inuyasha fidgeted again, and Kagome looked like she wanted to just sink into the floor and never be seen again. "Yes, well, ah... since you seem to have forgotten my sense of smell, um..." He paused again, then shut his eyes and gulped.

"I can smell humans in heat."

Matter of fact, definite, a bit louder than necessary- and, when it hit Sango, enough to make her cheeks flame as brightly as Kagome's.

"Y-you... can smell..."

Inuyasha nodded roughly, still doing everything he could to avoid looking at either one of them. "Yeah. So, next time, like I said, just _go inside."_

"Y-you... could smell... us..."

If it was possible to pass out from embarrassment, Sango would've done so then and there.

Horrified, her face burning, she turned to stare at Miroku. Even the monk had the grace to look at least slightly embarrassed, and he, too, was blinking at Inuyasha, open-mouthed. Sango gulped, uncomfortably hot now and wanting to just sink down to the floor and join Kagome in never being seen again.

And then.

Without the slightest ounce of shame.

One hand moved very pointedly to rest on her ass- and Miroku's stupid face stretched into a gleeful, entirely unabashed, grin.

"Well, Inuyasha," he chuckled, "you know how we are; we-"

He didn't get the chance to finish whatever stupid, perverted thing he was going to say.

The well deserved smack echoed around the entire temple- as did her scream.

 _"YOU GOD DAMMED PERVERT!"_


End file.
